a look, and which he did not discuss or repeat to
me, except to remark--"They have started in to
bite, Signore," the meaning of which I could but
guess at. At another time he and his associates concocted
a scheme by which Vittorio's foot was to slip
as he was leaving Loretta at the door, and he be fished
out of the canal with his pretty clothes begrimed with
mud;--a scheme which was checked when they began
to examine the young gondolier the closer, and which
was entirely abandoned when they learned that his
father was often employed about the palace of the
king. In these projected attacks, strange to say, the
girl's mother took part. Her hope in keeping her
home was in Loretta's marrying Francesco.

Then, dog as he was, he tried the other plan--all
this I got from Luigi, he sitting beside me, sharpening
charcoal points, handing me a fresh brush, squeezing
out a tube of color on my palette: nothing like a
romance to a staid old painter; and then, were not
both of us in the conspiracy as abettors, and up to
our eyes in the plot?

This other plan was to traduce the girl. So the
gondoliers on the traghetto began to talk,--behind
their hands, at first: She had lived in Francesco's
house; she had had a dozen young fishermen trapesing
after her; her mother, too, was none too good.
Then again, you could never trust these Neapolitans,
--the kitten might be like the cat, etc., etc.