CHAPTER XVIII.

“Pale she looked,
Yet cheerful; though methought, once, if not twice. 
She wiped away a tear that would be coming.” 

          
                                                      Rogers.

The hours passed as if naught had occurred, within the barriers of the city, to disturb their progress.  On the following morning men proceeded to their several pursuits, of business or of pleasure, as had been done for ages, and none stopped to question his neighbor of the scene which might have taken place during the night.  Some were gay, and others sorrowing; some idle, and others occupied; here one toiled, there another sported; and Venice presented, as of wont, its noiseless, suspicious, busy, mysterious, and yet stirring throngs, as it had before done at a thousand similar risings of the sun.

The menials lingered around the water-gate of Donna Violetta’s palace with distrustful but cautious faces, scarce whispering among themselves their secret suspicions of the fate of their mistress.  The residence of the Signor Gradenigo presented its usual gloomy magnificence, while the abode of Don Camillo Monforte betrayed no sign of the heavy disappointment which its master had sustained.  The Bella Sorrentina still lay in the port, with a yard on deck, while the crew repaired its sails in the lazy manner of mariners who work without excitement.

The Lagunes were dotted with the boats of fishermen, and travellers arrived and departed from the city by the well known channels of Fusina and Mestre.  Here, some adventurer from the north quitted the canals on his return towards the Alps, carrying with him a pleasing picture of the ceremonies he had witnessed, mingled with some crude conjectures of that power which predominated in the suspected state; and there, a countryman of the Main sought his little farm, satisfied with the pageants and regatta of the previous day.  In short, all seemed as usual, and the events we have related remained a secret with the actors, and that mysterious council which had so large a share in their existence.

As the day advanced, many a sail was spread for the pillars of Hercules or the genial Levant, and feluccas, mystics, and golettas, went and came as the land or sea-breeze prevailed.  Still the mariner of Calabria lounged beneath the awning which sheltered his deck, or took his siesta on a pile of old sails, which were ragged with the force of many a hot sirocco.  As the sun fell, the gondolas of the great and idle began to glide over the water; and when the two squares were cooled by the air of the Adriatic, the Broglio began to fill with those privileged to pace its vaulted passage.  Among these came the Duke of Sant’ Agata, who, though an alien to the laws of the Republic, being of so illustrious descent, and of claims so equitable, was received among the senators, in their