Ripples and bubbles were left behind, as the driven scud floats past the stars, and all those muscles which had once before that day been so finely developed in the race of the gondoliers, were now expanded, seemingly in twofold volumes.

Energy and skill were in every stroke, and the dark spot came down the streak of light, like the swallow touching the water with its wing.
"Hither, Jacopo--thou steerest wide!" The beak of the gondola turned, and the glaring eye of the Bravo caught a glimpse of the fisherman's head.
"Quickly, good Jacopo,--I fail!" The murmuring of the water again drowned the stifled words.

The efforts of the oar were frenzied, and at each stroke the light gondola appeared to rise from its element.
"Jacopo--hither--dear Jacopo!" "The mother of God aid thee, fisherman!--I come." "Jacopo--the boy!--the boy!" The water gurgled; an arm was visible in the air, and it disappeared.
The gondola drove upon the spot where the limb had just been visible, and a backward stroke, that caused the ashen blade to bend like a reed, laid the trembling boat motionless.

The furious action threw the Lagune into ebullition, but, when the foam subsided, it lay calm as the blue and peaceful vault it reflected.
"Antonio!"-- burst from the lips of the Bravo.
A frightful silence succeeded the call.

There was neither answer nor human form.