onsent of the Senate and the Council to comply with the admonitions of
the Most Holy Father, the day shall be happy for Venice_."

"Take her away--she is distraught," commanded one of the Chiefs of the
Ten, starting forward.

There was a movement of irresolution among those immediately surrounding
the Doge; but the Lady Marina, like one commissioned for a holy emprise,
had no fear.

"Nay, for I claim my right, as citizen of Venice, to bring my grievance
to the Doge's throne!" she answered proudly. "I am mother to a son who
shall one day take his seat among the nobles of this Council; I am
daughter to a man of the people,--beloved by his own class and honorably
known, in the records of the Ten, among the industries of Venice,--who
hath but now refused the seat of honor they would have granted him, that
he might more truly serve the interests of the people; I am wife to a
noble whose ancient name hath been written again and again in records of
highest service most honorable to the Republic. My grievance is the
grievance of Venice--of the nobles and the people!"

She spoke with the exaltation of inspiration, and there was a hush in
the chamber, as if she had wrought some spell they could not break.

Presently into this silence a voice--low, clear, emotionless--dropped
the consenting words, "Speak on, that justice be not defrauded by the
half-told tale."

Instinctively the eyes of the senators turned to the face of the Chief
Counsellor, whose opinions had ruled the debate for many days past; but
he sat serene and unmoved among his violet-robed colleagues, with no
trace of sympathy nor speech upon his placid and inscrutable
countenance. If the words were his they were simply an impartial
reminder of duty--they concealed no opinion; the senators were to be the
judges of the scene, and justice required them to listen.

They gave a quickened interest.

"I plead for the people, who have no representatives here--for the
people, who are faithful to the Church and dutiful to the Holy Father;
let not this undeserved horror come upon them. Leave them their heaven,
who have no earthly paradise!"

The lady's strength seemed failing, for the last words had come more
painfully, though with a ring of passionate indignation.

Again Marcantonio Giustiniani broke from his detaining colleagues in an
attempt to reach his wife; and a second time the hands of the
Councillors waved him back.

"Spare us this anathema, most gracious Pr