superstitious credulity of the Uzcoques, the wily Venetian had devised
this stratagem as one likely to produce a startling effect upon the
prisoner, and to forward the end he proposed to obtain by his visit.
He now seated himself upon a wooden bench, the only piece of furniture
in the dungeon, and addressed the captive in a mild and conciliating
tone.

"You should keep better watch over your dreams," said he, "if you wish
our tribunals to remain in ignorance of your secrets."

"My dreams!" repeated the Uzcoque, somewhat startled by the ominous
coincidence between Marcello's words and the visions that had broken
his slumber.

"Ay, friend, your dreams! The jailers are watchful, and little passes
in these prisons without coming to their knowledge. More than once
have they heard you revealing in your sleep that which, during your
waking hours, you so strenuously deny.--'Enough! Enough!' you cried.
'I will confess all. I am Nicolo Dansowich.'"

While Marcello was speaking, the old Uzcoque had had time to collect
his thoughts, and call to mind the numerous snares and devices by
which the Venetian tribunals obtained confessions from their
prisoners. With an intuitive keenness of perception, he in a moment
saw through the Proveditore's stratagem, and resolved to defeat it. A
contemptuous smile played over his features, and, shaking his head
incredulously, he answered the Venetian--

"The watchful jailers you speak of have doubtless been cheering their
vigils with the wine flask," said he. "Their draughts must have been