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Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion), 1854-1909

"Marietta A Maid of Venice"


"You will need it on Sundays at sea," said Aristarchi.
"I cannot read," said the Georgian slave regretfully. "But it will be a
consolation to have the missal."
Aristarchi smiled and tossed the book upon the heap of things.
"It would be amusing to pay a visit to those young fools downstairs, and
to take all their money and leave them locked up for the night," he
said, as if a thought had struck him.
"There are too many of them," answered Arisa, laying her hand anxiously
upon his arm. "And they are all armed. Please do nothing so foolish."
"If they are all like Contarini, I do not mind twenty of them or so,"
laughed Aristarchi. "They must have more than a thousand gold ducats
amongst them. That would be worth taking."
"They are not all like Contarini," said Arisa. "There is Zuan Venier,
for instance."
"Zuan Venier? Is he one of them? I have heard of him. I should like to
see whether he could be frightened, for they say it is impossible."
Aristarchi scratched his head, pushing his shaggy hair forward over his
forehead, as he tried to think of an effectual scheme for producing the
desired result.
"The Ten might pursue us for that, as well as for a murder," said Arisa.
Meanwhile the friends assembled in the room downstairs had been occupied
for a long time in hearing what Zuan Venier had to say to Jacopo
Contarini, concerning the latter's treatment of Zorzi.


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