ile our soldiers were holding their own, as usual,
a Genoese fire ship exploded in the canal behind them. The idea,
unfortunately, seized the troops that the bridge was on fire. The
Genoese shouted 'The bridge is in flames!' and pressed onward, and our
soldiers fell back, in some confusion, towards the bridge. Here Emo,
with four brave companions, made a noble stand, and for a time checked
the advance of the foe; but he was driven back. There was no time to
destroy the communication behind him. The enemy pressed on, and,
mingled with our retreating soldiers, entered the town. And so Chioggia
was taken. Our loss in killed is said to be eight hundred and sixty
men; while the rest of the garrison--four thousand in number--were
taken prisoners."

A loud cry of anguish burst from the crowd. Numbers of those present
had relatives and friends among the garrison of Chioggia; and to all,
the news of this terrible disaster was a profound blow. Venice was open
now to invasion. In a few hours, the enemy might appear in her canals.

The council and the nobles endeavoured to dispel the feeling of
despair. While some harangued the people from the balconies, others
went down and mingled with the crowd, assuring them that all was not
yet lost, that already messengers had been despatched to Doria, and the
Lord of Padua, asking for terms of peace; and even should these be
refused, Venice might yet defend herself until Zeno arrived, with his
fleet, to their rescue. The doge himself received deputations of the
citizens, and, by his calmness and serenity, did much to allay the
first feeling of terror and dismay; and in a few hours the city
recovered its wonted aspect of tranquillity.

The next morning the answer to the overtures was received. The Lord of
Padua, who was doubtless beginning to feel some misgiving as to the
final issue of the struggle, declared that he himself was not unwilling
to treat upon certain terms, but that the decision must rest in the
hands of his colleague. Doria, believing that Venice was now in his
grasp, rejected the idea of terms with scorn.

"By God's faith, my lords of Venice," he cried, "ye shall have no peace
from the Lord of Padua, nor from our commune of Genoa, until I have put
a bit in the mouths of the horses of your evangelist of Saint Mark.
When they have been bridled you shall then, in sooth, have a good
peace; and this is our purpose and that of our commune!

"As for these captives, my brethren,"