“’Tis the wantonness of security.  Let it pass, for all that serveth to amuse suppresseth turbulent thoughts.  Shall we now see his highness, Signori?”

“You forget the fisherman,” gravely observed the Signor Gradenigo.

“Your honor sayeth true.  What a head for business hath he!  Nothing that is useful escapeth his ready mind.”

The old senator, while he was too experienced to be cajoled by such language, saw the necessity of appearing flattered.  Again he bowed, and protested aloud and frequently against the justice of compliments that he so little merited.  When this little byplay was over, they proceeded gravely to consider the matter before them.

As the decision of the Council of Three will be made apparent in the course of the narrative, we shall not continue to detail the conversation that accompanied their deliberations.  The sitting was long, so long indeed that when they arose, having completed their business, the heavy clock of the square tolled the hour of midnight.

“The Doge will be impatient,” said one of the two nameless members, as they threw on their cloaks, before leaving the chamber.  “I thought his highness wore a more fatigued and feeble air to-day, than he is wont to exhibit at the festivities of the city.”

“His highness is no longer young, Signore.  If I remember right, he greatly outnumbers either of us in years.  Our Lady of Loretto lend him strength long to wear the ducal bonnet, and wisdom to wear it well!”

“He hath lately sent offerings to her shrine.”

“Signore, he hath.  His confessor hath gone in person with the offering, as I know of certainty.  ’Tis not a serious gift, but a mere remembrance to keep himself in the odor of sanctity.  I doubt that his reign will not be long!”

“There are, truly, signs of decay in his system.  He is a worthy prince, and we shall lose a father when called to weep for his loss!”

“Most true, Signore:  but the horned bonnet is not an invulnerable shield against the arrows of death.  Age and infirmities are more potent than our wishes.”

“Thou art moody to-night, Signor Gradenigo.  Thou art not used to be so silent with thy friends.”

“I am not the less grateful, Signore, for their favors.  If I have a loaded countenance, I bear a lightened heart.  One who hath a daughter of his own so happily bestowed in wedlock as thine, may judge of the relief I feel by this disposition of my ward.  Joy affects the exterior, frequently, like sorrow; aye, even to tears.”

His two companions looked at the speaker with much obvious sympathy in their manners.  They then left the chamber of doom together.  The menials entered and extinguished the lights, leaving all behind them in an obscurity that was no bad type of the gloomy mysteries of the place.

CHAPTER XIV.

“Then methought,
A serenade broke silence, breathing hope
Through walls of stone.” 

                                                      Italy.