In all that vast Council Chamber there was no movement, save the slight
commotion among a group of red-robed senators farthest from the throne,
who were forcibly detaining the Senator Marcantonio Giustiniani, and the
imperative gesture from the dais which had waved him back and hushed his
involuntary exclamation of horror. Among the Savii, Giustinian
Giustiniani sat livid with anger, close under the eyes of that one calm,
terrible Counsellor whose gaze, fastened upon him, rendered speech
impossible.
"My daughter," said the Doge, in a tone full of consideration, "this is
not fitting. At another moment we will listen to thy request. Thou
mayest withdraw."
"Serenissimo, Prince of Venice!" Marina cried, stretching forth her
hands, "be gracious to me! _Now_ must I speak my message, or it will be
too late--and it hath been granted me in a vision, for the welfare of
the people of Venice. _If the Ruler of this Republic will win the
consent 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 Prince!" she cried. "I speak for
the mothers of all the babes of Venice. And oh, my Lords,"--and now the
words came in a low, intense wail, as she turned instinctively and
included them all in the beseeching motion of her hands,--"if you have
no mercy on yourselves, at least have mercy on your tender little ones!
Do not bring damnation on these innocent, helpless children by your own
act. Be great enough to submit to a greater power!"
"It is unseemly," murmured another of the Councillors, yet low, as if
afraid of his own judgment in a case so strange.
Leonardo Donato had been in possession of the supreme ducal authority
but a few weeks, not long enough to unlearn the tone of command and the
quick power of decision which had distinguished him as ambassador, when
he had been chosen with the unanimous approval of this august assembly,
to conciliate the court of Rome in the hour of the Republic's great
emergency. His presence of mind returned to him; the scene had lasted
long enough, and the situation was critical. The noble Lady Marina must
be retired without disgrace, for the honor of the Ca' Giustiniani; but,
above all, that she might not heighten the impression which her presence
had already created. And she must be placed where she could exercise no
further influence, yet in a way that should awaken no commiseration; for
she was beautiful and terribly in earnest, and in her deep eyes there
was the light of a prophet, and all Venice was at her feet.
The Doge spoke a word low to his Councillors, who sat nearest him on
either side, and they, with decorous signs of approval, passed it on to
the others. Thus fortified he rose, descended the steps of the ducal
throne, and addressed her with grave courtesy; the whole house, as in
custom bound, rising also while their prince was standing.
"We do not forget, most noble Lady Marina Giustiniani, that more than
many others thou art a daughter of the Republic, being especially
adopted by the Act of the Signoria; and thy love for Venice wins
forgiveness for the strangeness of thy fear that we, her loyal rulers,
could work her harm. But thou art distressed and needing rest, from the
pain of the vision which thou hast confided to us. We will care for
thee, as a father should.
"Let the noble Senator Marcantonio Giustiniani approach and conduct his
lady to private apartments within our palace, where she may rest, with
her maidens, until she shall be refreshed. One of our secretaries shall
show the way and remain to see that every aid is bestowed."
The secretary whom the Doge had designated by a glance had approached
and received a rapid order, spoken in an undertone; Marina had fallen,
almost fainting, upon her husband's arm, as he reached her after the
permission so intolerably delayed, yet he dared not move in that
imperious presence without further bidding. His hand stole over hers to
comfort her. She had suffered so much that he could not be angry.
Leonardo Donato's eyes quickly scanned the faces of the senators,
seeking the two least sympathetic.
"The Senators Morosini and Sagredo will escort them," he said, "and will
return in haste with the Senator Giustiniani to do their duty to the
Republic."
At the door Marina turned again, rallying her failing strength with a
last desperate effort, but the words came in a broken, agonized whisper:
"O Santissima Maria Vergine! Mater Dolorosa! because thou art the
special guardian of this Virgin City--and here, in her councils, none of
thy reverend fathers may plead for thee--be merciful, Madre Beatissima!
Save us from our doom!"