“Later a remedy shall be brought thee,” he answered coldly.  “Thou hearest the great summons which none of our order may disobey; it is rare and solemn to hear that call.  Something of moment hath chanced. Ecco, now we shall know!” he added in a tone of relief, as Fra Gianmaria appeared from under the convent entrance, whither he had gone to receive the Chief of the Ten, who now entered the great court with him in formal state, with a secretary and attendants and an officer of the guards.

The tumultuous crowd began to range itself in orderly groups at the command of the superior, and Fra Antonio controlled himself with a supreme effort as a body of palace guards, in brilliant uniforms, scattered themselves among the black-robed friars.  The heavy gates closed behind them, and the dismal tolling of the bell ended in a silence through which the heart-beats of Fra Antonio sounded in his ears louder and more ominous than the harsh tones of the summons had done a moment before.

Who were those two terrible gondoliers all in black, who stood by the water-entrance on the Fondamenta?  Was it the shadow of their great black hats that darkened their features like masks?  Why were they there?

He glanced stealthily at the faces of the friars; they were more full of interest than dread, while the eyes of the little choristers who stood robed for chapel service shone with delight.  Evidently to all that community the interruption was an event filled with possibilities of excitement that was welcomed as breaking the monotony of the daily round.  Perhaps no one had noticed those gondoliers!  Only Father Gianmaria, the Superior, and the Senator Giustinian Giustiniani, the Chief of the Ten, were stern and angry; and Fra Paolo stood between them—­calm and inscrutable as ever.

Now, thought Fra Antonio, before the curiosity of the friars had been satisfied,—­while no one was thinking of him,—­he must escape!  But at every passage leading out of the court a scarlet coat stood guard, save only before the low doorway of the dormitory stair.  Fra Giulio’s eyes were fixed earnestly, adoringly, upon his beloved Fra Paolo, and he had moved a little way from the wall.

Fra Antonio stole softly in behind him, breathlessly anxious.  He was already under the archway when his unsteady foot stumbled in a hollow of the worn brick pavement just within the opening—­in another moment he should be safe!  But a voice, meant for him alone, leaped through all that crowd and petrified him with horror; it was filled with a sarcastic grace as it offered the courtesy.

“Whoever hath need to leave this cloister before the Inquiry of Venice is satisfied, shall be served by the gondola of the Piombi—­which waits.”

I Piombi!  Those prisons under the leads where the heat was slow torture—­this was the meaning of the masked gondoliers!