During this horrible and brief moment neither Father Anselmo nor Gelsomina moved.  All was over, and still the entire scene appeared to be delusion.

“Take away this maniac!” said an officer of the police, pointing to Gelsomina as he spoke.

He was obeyed with Venetian readiness, but his words proved prophetic before his servitors had quitted the square.  The Carmelite scarce breathed.  He gazed at the moving multitude, at the windows of the palace, and at the sun which shone so gloriously in the heavens.

“Thou art lost in this crowd!” whispered one at his elbow.  “Reverend Carmelite, you will do well to follow me.”

The monk was too much subdued to hesitate.  His conductor led him by many secret ways to a quay, where he instantly embarked in a gondola for the main.  Before the sun reached the meridian the thoughtful and trembling monk was on his journey towards the States of the Church, and ere long he became established in the castle of Sant’ Agata.

At the usual hour the sun fell behind the mountains of the Tyrol, and the moon reappeared above the Lido.  The narrow streets of Venice again poured out their thousands upon the squares.  The mild light fell athwart the quaint architecture and the giddy tower, throwing a deceptive glory on the city of islands.

The porticoes became brilliant with lamps, the gay laughed, the reckless trifled, the masker pursued his hidden purpose, the cantatrice and the grotesque acted their parts, and the million existed in that vacant enjoyment which distinguishes the pleasures of the thoughtless and the idle.  Each lived for himself, while the state of Venice held its vicious sway, corrupting alike the ruler and the ruled, by its mockery of those sacred principles which are alone founded in truth and natural justice.