“San Teodoro grant that he were! he is taken, Signore, with many more of tender years, into the galleys, whence may our Lady give him a save deliverance!  If your eccellenza has an opportunity to speak with the general of the galleys, or with any other who may have authority in such a matter, on my knees I pray you to speak in behalf of the child, who is a good and pious lad, that seldom casts a line into the water without an ave or a prayer to St. Anthony, and who has never given me uneasiness, until he fell into the grip of St. Mark.”

“Rise—­this is not the affair in which I have to question thee.  Thou hast this day spoken of thy prayer to our most illustrious prince, the Doge?”

“I have prayed his highness to give the boy liberty.”

“And this thou hast done openly, and with little deference to the high dignity and sacred character of the chief of the Republic?”

“I did it like a father and a man.  If but half what they say of the justice and kindness of the state were true, his highness would have heard me as a father and a man.”

A slight movement among the fearful Three caused the secretary to pause; when he saw, however, that his superiors chose to maintain their silence, he continued—­

“This didst thou once in public and among the senators, but when repulsed, as urging a petition both out of place and out of reason, thou soughtest other to prefer thy request?”

“True, illustrious Signore.”

“Thou camest among the gondoliers of the regatta in an unseemly garb, and placed thyself foremost with those who contended for the favor of the senate and its prince?”

“I came in the garb which I wear before the Virgin and St. Antonio, and if I was foremost in the race, it was more owing to the goodness and favor of the man at my side, than any virtue which is still left in these withered sinews and dried bones.  San Marco remember him in his need, for the kind wish, and soften the hearts of the great to hear the prayer of a childless parent!”

There was another slight expression of surprise or curiosity among the inquisitors, and once more the secretary suspended his examination.

“Thou hearest, Jacopo,” said one of the Three.  “What answer dost thou make the fisherman?”

“Signore, he speaketh truth.”

“And thou hast dared to trifle with the pleasures of the city, and to set at naught the wishes of the Doge!”

“If it be a crime, illustrious senator, to have pitied an old man who mourned for his offspring, and to have given up my own solitary triumph to his love for the boy, I am guilty.”

There was along and silent pause after his reply.  Jacopo had spoken with habitual reverence, but with the grave composure that appeared to enter deeply into the composition of his character.  The paleness of the cheek was the same, and the glowing eye which so singularly lighted and animated a countenance that possessed a hue not unlike that of death, scarce varied its gaze while he answered.  A secret sign caused the secretary to proceed with his duty.