The governess was older, and less disposed than her pupil to confide in appearances.  But the more ardent mind and superior rank of the latter had given her an influence that the former did not always successfully resist.  Gelsomina returned before there was time to discuss the prudence of what Violetta had proposed.

“Thou hast a father, Gelsomina?” asked the Venetian heiress, taking the hand of the gentle girl, as she put her question.

“Holy Maria be praised!  I have still that happiness.”

“It is a happiness—­for surely a father would not have the heart to sell his own child to ambition and mercenary hopes!  And thy mother?”

“Has long been bed-ridden, lady.  I believe we should not have been here, but we have no other place so suitable for her sufferings as this jail.”

“Gelsomina, thou art happier than I, even in thy prison.  I am fatherless—­motherless—­I could almost say, friendless.”

“And this from a lady of the Tiepolo!”

“All is not as it seems in this evil world, kind Gelsomina.  We have had many Doges, but we have had much suffering.  Thou mayest have heard that the house of which I come is reduced to a single, youthful girl like thyself, who has been left in the Senate’s charge?”

“They speak little of these matters, lady, in Venice; and, of all here, none go so seldom into the square as I. Still have I heard of the beauty and riches of Donna Violetta.  The last I hope is true; the first I now see is so.”

The daughter of Tiepolo colored, in turn, but it was not in resentment.

“They have spoken in too much kindness for an orphan,” she answered; “though that fatal wealth is perhaps not over-estimated.  Thou knowest that the state charges itself with the care and establishment of all noble females, whom Providence has left fatherless?”

“Lady, I did not.  It is kind of St. Mark to do it!”

“Thou wilt think differently, anon.  Thou art young, Gelsomina, and hast passed thy time in privacy?”

“True, lady.  It is seldom I go further than my mother’s room, or the cell of some suffering prisoner.”

Violetta looked towards her governess, with an expression which seemed to say, that she anticipated her appeal would be made in vain, to one so little exposed to the feelings of the world.

“Thou wilt not understand, then, that a noble female may have little inclination to comply with all the Senate’s wishes, in disposing of her duties and affections?”

Gelsomina gazed at the fair speaker, but it was evident that she did not clearly comprehend the question.  Again Violetta looked at the governess as if asking aid.

“The duties of our sex are often painful,” said Donna Florinda, understanding the appeal with female instinct.  “Our attachments may not always follow the wishes of our friends.  We may not choose, but we cannot always obey.”

“I have heard that noble ladies are not suffered to see those to whom they are to be wedded, Signora, if that is what your eccellenza means, and, to me, the custom has always seemed unjust, if not cruel.”