Thereafter the care of him rested with Philibert; and at times with that bright young man, Domenico Casotto, who upon occasion came to relieve the valet. Casotto would sit and entertain Messer Melville with news of the events in Venice. He was more entertaining than he suspected, for Marc-Antoine, aware of Casotto's real functions, derived amusement from the rascal's efforts to lure him into a self-incriminating frankness. He might have been less amused had he known how closely the inquisitors of state were watching him through the ingenuous-looking eyes of this lively lad.
Nothing, however, was further from Marc-Antoine's mind than apprehension of the danger of which Isotta had sent him warning on the night when he was assailed. Though the inquisitors might suspect that Lebel and he were one and the same man, proof was not lacking of his devotion to the side that was ranged against Jacobinism or of the services which through Count Pizzamano he had rendered the Most Serene Republic, culminating in the warning which from his sick-bed he had sent the Count.
Hence, when at last in the first week of April he found himself sufficiently recovered to go forth again, he did not hesitate to decide to return to his old quarters at the Inn of the Swords. Confidently he brushed aside the slight misgivings displayed by Lallemant.
'To remain here beyond the time necessary for the healing of my wound would indeed be to invite a suspicion not easily removed. To be of any service I must have complete freedom of movement, and unless I have this, I had better leave Venice at once.'
Villetard was about to set out for Klagenfurth in answer to a summons from Bonaparte. This, as Marc-Antoine surmised, because instructions had reached the General from the Directory similar to those which had been addressed to Lebel.
The campaign was all but over. Lallemant expected news of the end at any moment.
'And then,' he said, 'it will be the turn of these Venetians. But a sound pretext, my friend, is still to seek.'
Marc-Antoine chose to be very much Camille Lebel at that moment.
'What need to be so cursedly fastidious? There's pretext to spare in the shelter given by Venice to the ci-devant Comte de Provence. I established it when I demanded his ejection. I would now present the reckoning if it depended upon me.'
'It doesn't depend upon you,' said Villetard tartly. 'The Directors require something more, as you know.'
'And as you know, too, Villetard,' he was answered, with an asperity serving to remind him that he was not yet forgiven for an interference which had all but cost the supposed Lebel his life. 'What have you done whilst I have been invalided? Here was your opportunity to do some of the fine things you promised us when first you came to Venice. Instead, what have we?' Marc-Antoine looked him over coldly. 'You begin to see perhaps that criticism is easier than performance.'
'Ah, that! Name of a name! It was not in my instructions to act as an agent-provocateur.'
Marc-Antoine's glance was so hard and stern that Villetard's arrogance crumpled before it; the sneer perished on his tight lips.
'Shall I report that speech to the Directors? Shall I tell them how precisely you delimit your service to the instructions you have personally received? They might then remind you that it is in your instructions to do whatever may be necessary for the good of France. However, since it is beneath your dignity to practise acts of provocation . . .'
Villetard was almost frightened. He interrupted vehemently. 'I never said that. Bear me witness, Lallemant, that I never said that.'
Marc-Antoine went steadily on: 'Since that is beneath your dignity, there is all the more reason why I should go and see what I can do.' He turned to take his leave of Lallemant. 'I will report when there is occasion.'
Marc-Antoine landed at the Rialto. He sent Philibert on to the Inn of the Swords to inform Battista, the landlord, that he followed.
His natural promptings were to go at once to the Casa Pizzamano at San Daniele; and yet he was withheld by hesitations. He asked himself in a sort of despair what it was that he could go to do there. All that remained, so far as he could see, was to take his leave of the Count's family and depart whilst he was yet free to do so from this doomed capital of a doomed state where his every endeavour had failed.
He was of those who reflect most lucidly whilst moving; and so it was, in spite of the lingering weakness from his long confinement, that he had chosen to land at the Rialto, and set out to walk as far as Saint Mark's, where he would embark again to complete the journey. He hoped that by the time he reached the Piazza he would have resolved the problem that beset him.
