XXIV

The nuncio had declared that Venice no longer required his services and

had withdrawn, with every ceremony of punctilious and honorable

dismissal, to Rome, from whence the Venetian ambassador presently went

forth _without_ the customary compliments.

But if diplomatic relations were severed between Rome and Venice, there

were still chances for private communication which sometimes cast a

curious light upon the subject under discussion, but which made no

change in that irreproachable suavity of exterior or that invincibility

of purpose with which the Venetians held in check any attempt at

disaffection through Roman agency, or averted any schismatic movement

within their own dependencies.

To Sarpi, the Chief Counsellor, had been committed the censorship of the

press; and the supervision of those very papers which had been written

by friends of the Republic to scatter broadcast in defense of its

rights, formed not the least delicate part of his task. For the

government demanded that they should maintain a fine reserve in method,

and in spite of examples to the contrary freely given by their

opponents, would tolerate neither heresy nor coarseness. Every detail of

this world-renowned quarrel was conducted on the part of Venice with an

irreproachable dignity and diplomacy that raised it to the height of a

negotiation of State, and it formed no part of the policy of the

Republic to tolerate any disbelief in her own loyalty; the Venetians

should stand before the world as faithful sons of the Church, bearing

unmerited sentence of excommunication.

Then Rome, to make an end of the brilliant flow of pamphlets from

Sarpi's pen, would have lured him from Venice with flattering promises

of churchly preferment. "Nay," said he, "here lieth my duty; and my work

hath not deserved honest favor from a Pope who interpreteth the law with

other eyes than mine."

Meanwhile the schemes of the enemy were tireless for obtaining secret

influence within Venetian borders. Now it was a barefooted friar to be

watched for at Mantua, coming with powers plenipotentiary from his

Holiness over all the prelates of the rebellious realm; or it might be

this same friar, in lay disguise, still armed with those ghostly and

secret powers, for whom the trusted servants of Venice were to be on

guard. Or there were disaffected brothers, who had left their convents

and were roaming through the land inciting to rebellion, to whom it was

needful to teach the value of quiet, however summary the process. But

Venice, by a broad training in intrigue and cunning, joined to her

mastery of the finer principles of statesmanship, still remained

mistress of the springs of action and wore her outward dignity, and the

disappointments were for her adversaries. But this training was a costly

one, for it put a prize on daring, confused the colors of right, and

invariably laureled success--if it did no more specific harm to the

State.

Piero Salin had been secretly summoned by the Ten and given an

indefinite leave of absence from Venice, together with a large

discretionary power in the direction of his wanderings, with certain

other passes and perquisites which bespoke a curious confidence in one

who had been known for a successful and much dreaded bandit gondolier.

But if the government in its complicated labors had need of tools of

various tempers, it had also the wisdom to discern legitimate uses for

certain wild and lawless spirits when they were, like Piero, full of

daring and resource.

In the days when they had been dwellers under the same roof Piero had

never been able to disregard Marina's will, often as he had chafed under

the necessity of yielding to it; and now, since she was Lady of the

Giustiniani, it had not been otherwise in the rare instances when it had

pleased her to require anything of him. Yet it would have been

incongruous to charge Piero with over-sensitiveness on the side of

chivalry, though Marina's power over him was still as great as in those

old days when, being unable to shake himself free from her influence, he

had wished to marry her to make it less.

Piero was not introspective, but he doubtless knew that his ruling

passion was to achieve whatever purpose he might choose to set himself.

The Nicolotti knew it well when, a few months before, they had

unanimously elected him to rule over them--as their chief officers had

realized it when they had nominated him, without a dissenting voice, to

this position of gastaldo grande--a position of great honor fully

recognized by the government. So the rival faction of the Castellani

bore marvelous testimony to his mastery when they went over in

surprising numbers from along the _Giudecca_, and underwent the strange

ceremonial of baptism into the opposition party.

Yet when the rival factions of the people had thus conspired to make him

their chief it was Marina who had alone induced him to accept the honor.

To all his objections her answer had been ready:

"Nay, Piero, it is meet for thee; they need one strong and brave, of

whom they stand in dread, who knoweth their ways--"

"As much bad as good," Piero had interposed frankly, and not without

asseverations well known to gondoliers.

"It is well said," she had answered, with the comprehension born of her

intimate knowledge of the class; "and to keep them in order--verily,

none but thou canst do it."

Piero gave an expressive shrug, having had enough of compliment. "_En

avanti--c'è altro_!" he said, laughing. "The taxes are heavy, and their

Excellencies the tax-gatherers have less patience than the poor

gondoliers bring of _zecchini_ to the purse of the Nicolotti. But the

gastaldo hath as little liberty of delay, as their Excellencies leave

him to decline the burden--I might better make shipwreck in the Canale

Orfano."

It was in this canal that the victims of the Inquisition mysteriously

disappeared, and Marina had repressed a shudder while she answered,

"Thou wilt come to me, Piero, if the purse of the Nicolotti weighs

little; thou shalt not fail, for this, of wearing the honor of gastaldo

grande.

"Nay," she had added, quickly disposing of his awkward attempts at

thanks, "think not of it again; it is for my pleasure to see thee great

among the people, for I also and my father are of them. It is this that

I have always wished for thee."

So, chiefly because it had been Marina's will, Piero had waived his

unwillingness and become the central figure in the imposing ceremony of

the election of the gastaldo grande of the Nicolotti, who were, indeed,

almost nobles by antiquity and prestige, not only claiming among

themselves the coveted title of _nobili_, but, under the sanction of the

government, electing their gastaldo with a degree of ceremonial granted

only to high officials, and prescribed in very ancient books of the laws

of the traghetti. One of the ducal secretaries, having received official

notice of the vacancy of the office carried in person before the Senate

by the oldest man of the Nicolotti, came, in purple state, to preside

over the election when the bell of San Nicolò had tolled forth the

call--taking his seat among the twelve electoral presidents who, already

chosen by the people, awaited him, having sworn the inevitable oath of

impartiality and fealty to the Republic; they sat behind locked doors

until the election was brought to a close--in that solemn semblance of a

ducal election which could not fail to impress the people--with

complicated, time-using ballotings, and comings and goings of candidates

from adjoining chambers to express their views of the responsibilities

of the office, or to defend themselves against the freely invited

attacks of opponents or malcontents.

And for once Piero had uttered opinions, however clumsily, upon

"government" and "reform" from the pulpit of San Nicolò, in the

dignified and interested presence of a ducal secretary, the bancali, and

the disconcerting throng of gondoliers who were intolerant of speeches

and impatient for their vote; and he had retired shamefacedly, like an

awkward boy, while his jejune remarks were elaborately discussed by the

judges. And because his views--if he had any--had not been

over-luminously set forth in this his maiden oration, a party of zealous

advocates had nearly caused an uproar by their irrepressible shout of

"Non c'e da parlar', ma da fare!" which was, in truth, too sure an

indication of the temper of the people to be ignored. "We do not want

talking--but doing!"

And for once he had experienced a curious sensation which cowardly men

call "fear," but for which Piero had neither name nor tolerance, when

all the people who had been worrying him led him in triumph to the altar

and forced him down on his stubborn knees to take a solemn oath of

allegiance, his great bronzed hand, all unaccustomed to restraint,

resting meanwhile in the slippery silken clasp of the ducal secretary.

Here also had the gastaldo received, from those same patrician hands,

the unfurled banner of the Nicolotti, with the sacramental words:

"We consign to you the standard of San Nicolò, in the name of the Most

Serene Prince and as proof that you are the chief gastaldo and head of

the people of San Nicolò and San Raffaele."

And after that had come freedom of breath, with the Te Deum, without

which no ceremonial was ever complete in Venice, chanted by all those

full-throated gondoliers--a jubilant chorus of men's voices, ringing the

more heartily through the church for those unwonted hours of repression.

But when the doors had at last been thrown wide to the sunshine and the

babel of life which rose from the eager, thronging populace who had no

right of entrance on this solemn occasion--men who had no vote, women

and children who had all their lives been Nicolotti of the Nicolotti--a

Venetian must indeed have been stolid to feel no thrill of pride as the

procession, with great pomp, passed out of the church to a chorus of

bells and cannon and shouts of the people, proclaiming him their chosen

chief.

Piero Salin was a splendid specimen of the people--tall,

broad-shouldered, gifted by nature and trained by wind and wave to the

very perfection of his craft; positive, nonchalant, and masterful;

affable when not thwarted; of fewer words than most Venetians; an adept

at all the intricacies of gondolier intrigue, and fitted by intimate

knowledge to circumvent the _tosi_. Moreover, he was in favor with the

government, a crowning grace to other qualities not valueless in one of

this commanding position.

No wonder that the enthusiasm of the populace was wild enough to bring

the frankest delight to his handsome sun-bronzed face as they rushed

upon him in a frenzy of appreciation and bore him aloft on their

shoulders around the Piazza San Nicolò, almost dizzied with their haste

and the smallness of the circle opened to them in the little square by

the throng who pressed eagerly around him to grasp his hand--to wave

their banners, to shout themselves hoarse for the Nicolotti, for San

Nicolò and San Raffaele, for _Piero, gastaldo grande_, for Venezia, for

San Marco, with "Bravi," "Felicitazioni," and every possible childish

demonstration of delight.

Should not the Nicolotti--blessed be the Madonna!--always overcome the

Castellani with Piero at their head, in those party battles on the

bridges which had now grown to be as serious a factor in the lives of

the gondoliers of Venice as they were disturbing to the citizens at

large, and therefore the more to the glory of the combatants?

Was he not their own representative--elected by the very voice of the

people, as in those lost days of their freedom the doges had been? And

did not the rival faction so stand in awe of the new gastaldo that from

the moment of his nomination there had been disaffection in their ranks?

And now, as they shouted around him, many a sturdy red cap tossed his

badge disdainfully into the throng and snatched a black bonnet from the

nearest head to wave it aloft with cries of "the black cap! The

Nicolotti! Viva San Nicolò!"

And again, when Piero essayed to prove himself equal to his honors, his

few words dropped without sound upon the storm of vivas--"We do not want

talking for our gastaldo--but doing!"

Since this happening Piero had been indeed a great man among the

people--a popular idol, with a degree of power difficult to estimate by

one unfamiliar with the customs and traditions of Venice; holding the

key, practically, to all the traghetti of Venice, since even before this

sweeping disaffection of the Castellani the Nicolotti were invariably

acknowledged to be the more powerful faction, so that now it was a

trifling matter to coerce a rival offending traghetto; and gondoliers,

private and public, were, to say the least, courteous toward these

nobles of the Nicolotti, who were dealing with tosi as never before in

the history of Venice.

In truth, but for those unknown _observors_ in secret service to the

terrible Inquisition,--an army sixty thousand strong, one third of the

entire population of Venice,--impressed from nobles, gondoliers,

ecclesiastics, and people of every grade and profession, from every

quarter of the city, and charged to lose nothing of any detail that

might aid the dreaded chiefs of the Inquisition in their silent and

fearful work--the power of Piero would have been virtually limitless.

These three terrible unknown chiefs of the Inquisition were never named

among the people except with bated breath, as "i tre di sopra," _the

three above_, lest some echo should condemn the speakers. But the

unsought favor of the government was as much a check as an assistance to

Piero's schemes, bringing him so frequently into requisition for

official intrigues that he had less opportunity for counterplotting,

while his knowledge of State secrets which he might not compromise, of

the far-reaching vision of Inquisitorial eyes, and of the swift and

relentless execution of those unknown _osservatori_ who had been

unfaithful to their primal duty as spies, made him dare less where

others were concerned than he would have foretold before he had been

admitted to these unexpected official confidences; while for himself he

had absolutely no fears--having but one life to order or to lose, and

caring less for its length than for the freedom of its ruling while it

remained to him.

And still Marina was, as she had always been, the gentlest influence in

his reckless life,--to some slight extent an inspiring one,--steadying

his daring yet generous instincts into a course that was occasionally

nearer to nobility than he could ever have chanced upon without her, yet

never able to instil a higher motive power than came from pleasing her.

It was Piero who had escorted Fra Francesco to the borders of the Roman

dominions, guarding him from pitfalls and discovery until he was free to

undertake his barefooted penitential pilgrimage upon Roman soil; and

from no faith nor sympathy in the gentle friar's views, but only because

he was dear to Marina.

And through Piero's agents, established under threats as terrible as

those of the Ten themselves, had come the news which, from time to time,

he unfolded to her; while the same secret agent brought perhaps a rumor

which the gastaldo grande confided to the Ten, wherewith some convent

plotting was unmasked, or other news so greatly to the keeping of the

peace of the Serene Republic, that Piero might have bought therewith

propitiation for all those sins against it, of which the government was

happily in ignorance. Now it was a hint of a plot in embryo to seize

the arsenal, involving some members of distinction in the households of

resident ambassadors; or word of the whereabouts of that wandering,

barefooted emissary with plenary powers, who had hitherto eluded

Venetian vigilance.

It was Piero also--although he never confessed to it--who, out of

compassion for Marina's priestly proclivities when she lay critically

ill, had made it possible for the Jesuits to remove those coffers of

treasure which, in spite of strictest orders to the contrary,

accompanied them on their flight from Venice; it was not that he took

part against Venice in the quarrel, but that the penalty of exile seemed

to him sufficient, especially as Marina had a weakness for priests; and

he could be generous in his use of power, though a man less daring would

not have risked the freak. But there was a masterful pleasure in

outwitting the Signoria and the Ten, lessened only by the consciousness

that he must keep this triumph to himself, and Piero also knew how to

hold his tongue--for discretion was a needful grace in that strange time

of barbaric lawlessness shrouded in a more than Eastern splendor.

But even Piero sometimes quickened his step as he passed the beautiful

sea façade of the Ducal Palace, whose rose-tinted walls seemed made only

to reflect sunshine; for perchance he guessed the name of that victim

who hung with covered face between the columns, bearing in bold letters

on his breast, by way of warning, the nature of the crime for which he

paid such awful penalty--some crime against the State. "To-day," said

Piero to himself, "it is this poor devil who cried to me to shield him

when I was forced to denounce him to the Signoria; to-morrow, for some

caprice of their Excellencies--it may be Piero Salin!"

But the gastaldo relapsed easily into such philosophy as he knew. "By

the blessed San Marco and San Teodoro themselves!" he was ready to cry,

as he reached his gondola, "there must always be a last 'to-morrow'!"