The gloomy but vast court was paved with the swarthy faces and glittering eyes of the fishermen.  The corpse was laid at the foot of the Giant’s Stairs, while the trembling halberdier at the head of the flight, scarce commanded himself sufficiently to maintain that air of firmness which was exacted by discipline and professional pride.  But there was no other show of military force, for the politic power which ruled in Venice, knew too well its momentary impotency, to irritate when it could not quell.  The mob beneath was composed of nameless rioters, whose punishment could carry no other consequences than the suppression of immediate danger, and for that, those who ruled were not prepared.

The Council of Three had been apprised of the arrival of the excited fishermen.  When the mob entered the court, it was consulting in secret conclave, on the probabilities of the tumult having a graver and more determined object, than was apparent in the visible symptoms.  The routine of office had not yet dispossessed the men already presented to the reader, of their dangerous and despotic power.

“Are the Dalmatians apprised of this movement?” asked one of the secret tribunal, whose nerves were scarcely equal to the high functions he discharged.  “We may have occasion for their volleys, ere this riot is appeased.”

“Confide in the ordinary authorities for that, Signore,” answered the Senator Gradenigo.  “I have only concern, lest some conspiracy, which may touch the fidelity of the troops, lies concealed beneath the outcry.”

“The evil passions of man know no limits!  What would the wretches have?  For a state in the decline, Venice is to the last degree prosperous.  Our ships are thriving; the bank flourishes with goodly dividends; and I do assure you, Signore, that, for many years, I have not known so ample revenues for most of our interests, as at this hour.  All cannot thrive alike!”

“You are happily connected with flourishing affairs, Signore, but there are many that are less lucky.  Our form of government is somewhat exclusive, and it is a penalty that we have ever paid for its advantages, to be liable to sudden and malevolent accusations, for any evil turn of fortune that besets the Republic.”

“Can nothing satisfy these exacting spirits?  Are they not free—­are they not happy?”

“It would seem that they want better assurance of these facts, than our own feelings, or our words.”

“Man is the creature of envy!  The poor desire to be rich—­the weak, powerful.”

“There is an exception to your rule, at least, Signore, since the rich rarely wish to be poor, or the powerful, weak.”

“You deride my sentiments to-night, Signor Gradenigo.  I speak, I hope, as becomes a Senator of Venice, and in a manner that you are not unaccustomed to hear!”

“Nay, the language is not unusual.  But I fear me there is something unsuited to a falling fortune, in the exacting and narrow spirit of our laws.  When a state is eminently flourishing, its subjects overlook general defects in private prosperity, but there is no more fastidious commentator on measures than your merchant of a failing trade.”