“Spare us this anathema, most gracious Prince!” she cried.  “I speak for the mothers of all the babes of Venice.  And oh, my Lords,”—­and now the words came in a low, intense wail, as she turned instinctively and included them all in the beseeching motion of her hands,—­“if you have no mercy on yourselves, at least have mercy on your tender little ones!  Do not bring damnation on these innocent, helpless children by your own act.  Be great enough to submit to a greater power!”

“It is unseemly,” murmured another of the Councillors, yet low, as if afraid of his own judgment in a case so strange.

Leonardo Donato had been in possession of the supreme ducal authority but a few weeks, not long enough to unlearn the tone of command and the quick power of decision which had distinguished him as ambassador, when he had been chosen with the unanimous approval of this august assembly, to conciliate the court of Rome in the hour of the Republic’s great emergency.  His presence of mind returned to him; the scene had lasted long enough, and the situation was critical.  The noble Lady Marina must be retired without disgrace, for the honor of the Ca’ Giustiniani; but, above all, that she might not heighten the impression which her presence had already created.  And she must be placed where she could exercise no further influence, yet in a way that should awaken no commiseration; for she was beautiful and terribly in earnest, and in her deep eyes there was the light of a prophet, and all Venice was at her feet.

The Doge spoke a word low to his Councillors, who sat nearest him on either side, and they, with decorous signs of approval, passed it on to the others.  Thus fortified he rose, descended the steps of the ducal throne, and addressed her with grave courtesy; the whole house, as in custom bound, rising also while their prince was standing.

“We do not forget, most noble Lady Marina Giustiniani, that more than many others thou art a daughter of the Republic, being especially adopted by the Act of the Signoria; and thy love for Venice wins forgiveness for the strangeness of thy fear that we, her loyal rulers, could work her harm.  But thou art distressed and needing rest, from the pain of the vision which thou hast confided to us.  We will care for thee, as a father should.

“Let the noble Senator Marcantonio Giustiniani approach and conduct his lady to private apartments within our palace, where she may rest, with her maidens, until she shall be refreshed.  One of our secretaries shall show the way and remain to see that every aid is bestowed.”

The secretary whom the Doge had designated by a glance had approached and received a rapid order, spoken in an undertone; Marina had fallen, almost fainting, upon her husband’s arm, as he reached her after the permission so intolerably delayed, yet he dared not move in that imperious presence without further bidding.  His hand stole over hers to comfort her.  She had suffered so much that he could not be angry.