y
Marina of the Giustiniani--I, Piero, barcariol or gastaldo, would serve
her as a soldier may serve a saint. For she hath been good to the
Zuanino. Ay, though it cost me my life, I would serve her like a saint
in heaven!" he repeated. Then, flushed with the shame of such unwonted
speech and confession, he hastened to the door, and his steps were
already resounding on the stone floor of the passage when Girolamo
recovered from his astonishment sufficiently to follow him into the
shadow and command him to stop.

"Thou hast seen my daughter--thou hast news of her?"

"Ay, yestere'en, at the Ave Maria, I spoke with her, in Santa Maria
dell' Orto, coming upon her kneeling before the great picture of Jacopo
Robusti--she, saint enough already to wear a gloria and looking as if
the heart of her were worn away from grief! She hath need of thee daily,
for her love for thee is great, and death not far."

"Tell it plainly!" commanded Girolamo, hastening after the retreating
figure and violently grasping his arm to detain him. "Have I failed to
her in aught? She is soul of my soul! Maledetto! why dost thou break my
heart?"

"Look to thine other son-in-law!" Piero retorted wrathfully; "him of the
crimson robe who sits in the Councils of Venice, and findeth no cure for
thy daughter--dying of terror beside him."

"It is a base slander!" cried old Girolamo, trembling with anger and
fear. "Never was wife more beloved and petted! Marcantonio hath no
thought, save for Marina and Venice!"

"Ay, 'for Marina and Venice,'" was the scornful answer, "_but Venice
first_. Splendor and gifts and the pleasing of every whim, if he could
but guess it--gold for her asking, and her palace no better than a cross
for her dwelling; for the one thing she needeth for her peace and life
he giveth not!"

"What meanest thou?" cried Girolamo, furiously. "Hath he not spent a
fortune on physicians--sparing nothing, save to torment her no more,
since their skill is but weariness to her! She is eating her heart out
for this quarrel with Rome--which no man may help, and it is but
foolishness for women to meddle with; and she hath ever been too much
under priestly sway. Why earnest thou hither this night?"

"For this cause and for no other," said Piero solemnly, "that thou
mightest find me, if need should be for any service to her. And to swear
to thee, by the Madonna and every saint of Venice, that I would give my
life for her!"

But old Girolamo grew the