“If seen, doubt it not:  St. Mark will never pardon so bold an interference with his pleasure.  And yet, sweetest Violetta, to gain thy favor this risk is nothing; nor will a far greater hazard turn me from my purpose.”

“These inexperienced and confiding spirits have taken advantage of my absence to communicate more freely than was discreet,” said the Carmelite, in the manner of one who foresaw the answer.

“Father, nature is too strong for the weak preventives of prudence.”

The brow of the monk became clouded.  His companions watched the workings of his mind, as they appeared in a countenance that in common was so benevolent, though always sad.  For a few moments none broke the silence.

The Carmelite at length demanded, raising his troubled look to the countenance of Don Camillo,—­

“Hast thou duly reflected on the consequences of this rashness, son?  What dost thou purpose in thus braving the anger of the Republic, and in setting at defiance her arts, her secret means of intelligence, and her terrors?”

“Father, I have reflected as all of my years reflect, when in heart and soul they love.  I have brought myself to feel that any misery would be happiness compared to the loss of Violetta, and that no risk can exceed the reward of gaining her favor.  Thus much for the first of thy questions; for the last I can only say that I am too much accustomed to the wiles of the Senate to be a novice in the means of counteracting them.”

“There is but one language for youth, when seduced by that pleasing delusion which paints the future with hues of gold.  Age and experience may condemn it, but the weakness will continue to prevail in all until life shall appear in its true colors.  Duke of Sant’ Agata, though a noble of high lineage and illustrious name, and though lord of many vassals, thou art not a power—­thou can’st not declare thy palace in Venice a fortress, nor send a herald to the Doge with defiance.”

“True, reverend monk; I cannot do this—­nor would it be well for him who could, to trust his fortune on so reckless a risk.  But the states of St. Mark do not cover the earth—­we can fly.”

“The Senate hath a long arm, and it hath a thousand secret hands.”

“None know it better than I. Still it does no violence without motive; the faith of their ward irretrievably mine, the evil, as respects them, becomes irreparable.”

“Think’st thou so!  Means would quickly be found to separate you.  Believe not that Venice would be thwarted of its design so easily; the wealth of a house like this would purchase many an unworthy suitor, and thy right would be disregarded, or haply denied.”

“But, father, the ceremony of the church may not be despised!” exclaimed Violetta; “it comes from heaven and is sacred.”

“Daughter, I say it with sorrow, but the great and the powerful find means even to set aside that venerable and holy sacrament.  Thine own gold would serve to seal thy misery.”