“We are in secret here, Signore?” asked one of the guests, after some little time had been wasted in this manner.

“As the tomb.  None enter here unbidden but my wife, and she has this moment taken boat for better enjoyment of the evening.”

“The world gives you credit, Signor Soranzo, for a happy menage.  I hope you have duly considered the necessity of shutting the door even against the Donna Giulietta to-night?”

“Doubt me not, Signore; the affairs of St. Mark are paramount.”

“I feel myself thrice happy, Signori, that in drawing a lot for the secret council, my good fortune hath given me so excellent colleagues.  Believe me, I have discharged this awful trust, in my day, in less agreeable company.”

This flattering speech, which the wily old senator had made regularly to all whom chance had associated with him in the inquisition, during a long life, was well received, and it was returned with equal compliments.

“It would appear that the worthy Signor Alessandro Gradenigo was one of our predecessors,” he continued, looking at some papers; for though the actual three were unknown, at the time being, to all but a few secretaries and officers of the state, Venetian policy transmitted their names to their successors, as a matter of course,—­“a noble gentleman, and one of great devotion to the state!”

The others assented, like men accustomed to speak with caution.

“We were about to have entered on our duties at a troublesome moment, Signori,” observed another.  “But it would seem that this tumult of the fishermen has already subsided.  I understand the knaves had some reason for their distrust of the state.”

“It is an affair happily settled,” answered the senior of the three, who was long practised in the expediency of forgetting all that policy required should cease to be remembered after the object was attained.  “The galleys must be manned, else would St. Mark quickly hang his head in shame.”

The Signor Soranzo, who had received some previous instruction in his new duties, looked melancholy; but he, too, was merely the creature of a system.

“Is there matter of pressing import for our reflection?” he demanded.

“Signori, there is every reason to believe that the state has just sustained a grievous loss.  Ye both well know the heiress of Tiepolo, by reputation at least, though her retired manner of life may have kept you from her company.”

“Donna Giulietta is eloquent in praise of her beauty,” said the young husband.

“We had not a better fortune in Venice,” rejoined the third inquisitor.

“Excellent in qualities, and better in riches, as she is, I fear we have lost her, Signori!  Don Camillo Monforte, whom God protect until we have no future use for his influence! had come near to prevail against us; but just as the state baffled his well laid schemes, the lady has been thrown by hazard into the hands of the rioters, since which time there is no account of her movements!”