dread issue, trying to understand it wholly, that she might
pray with all her soul against it--this _Curse_ which was to blight the
lives of all she loved, and of which her dearest seemed to feel no
dread! She scarcely ate nor slept--watching, for the morning, when a new
intercession for mercy should rise from the oratory in her palace;
waiting for the evening, when she might go with her maidens to vespers
in San Marco. And still the days darkened in threats--had God forgotten
to be gracious?

And on this Christmas morning, when the Doge of Venice lay dying in his
halls of state, the nuns of San Donate, won by the prayers and gifts of
the Lady Marina, were making a procession to all the shrines of Murano,
praying, if by any means, God would stay this curse from falling upon
Venice.

No joy-bells rang to usher in the sunrise Mass of this memorable
Christmas day. The royal standards of the mighty Lion drooped at
half-mast before the dimmed magnificence of San Marco, their glowing
gold and scarlet deadened to shades of mourning steel; and low, muffled
tones, like the throbbings of the heart of a people, dropped down from
the campanile through an atmosphere still and cold as a breath of dread;
while from the embassies, the homes of the senators and Signoria, the
Patriarch and bishops of Venice, gondolas by twos and threes loomed
black against the gray-dark of the winter dawn, hurrying noiselessly to
the steps of the Piazzetta; and dark, stately figures, each heralded by
its torch-bearer, glided like phantoms under the arcades of the Ducal
Palace, up between the grim, giant guardians of the stairway, and on to
the galleries adjoining the apartments of the Doge, to await the hour of
Mass.

An edict, more unanswerable than any ever issued by Republic or Curia,
had gone forth, and in solemn state Venice awaited its fulfilment.

In that hush of reverent waiting, before the first faint saffron streak
had glimmered in the east, up through the flaring torches of the lower
court, unbidden and unwelcome, came the single figure in all that throng
which seemed to have no part in the solemn drama. To-day was like other
days for the nuncio, who was no member of the court of Venice, but a
figure without discretionary privilege, sent to keep in perpetual mind a
higher power. By his peremptory instructions he requested at once a
formal audience to deliver a message from his Holiness Paul V, which
could brook no delay.

"Behold!" said