The sleek and unctuous physiognomy of the monk wore an expression of unusual care and anxiety.  Without bestowing a salutation or a look upon the lady whose apartment he thus unceremoniously entered, he addressed himself at once to the Uzcoque Jurissa.

“Away with you!” cried he.  “Out of the palace; and quietly, too, as your own shadow.  Thumbscrews are waiting for you if you linger.”

Strasolda gazed in alarm at Father Cipriano.  Jurissa thrust his right hand under his cloak, and seemed to clutch some weapon.  Even the counsellor’s dame for a moment turned her eyes from the jewels she was admiring to the anxious countenance of the padre.

“Your last exploit will bring you into trouble,” continued the latter to Jurissa.  “You have gone beyond all bounds; and a special ambassador has arrived here from Venice.”

“Well!” replied the Uzcoque surlily, “was not the sack of doubloons sufficient fee to keep you at your post?”

“I have but just left it,” answered the monk, “and you may thank me if the storm is averted for the moment, although it must burst erelong.  Before the ambassador could obtain his audience, I hurried to the archduke, and chanted the old ditty; told him you were the Maccabees of the century—­the bulwarks of Christendom:  that without you the Turks would long since have been in Gradiska—­that the Venetians, through fear and lust of gain, were hand and glove with the followers of Mahomet—­and that it was their own fault if you had to strike through them to get at the infidel:  that they cared little about religion, so long as the convenience of their traffic was not interfered with—­and that it would be a sin and a shame to deprive himself of such valiant defenders for the sake of obliging the republic.  This, and much more, did I say to his highness, Signor Jurissa,” concluded the fat priest, wiping away the perspiration which his eagerness and volubility had caused to start out on his brow; “and, in good truth, I think your paltry bag of doubloons but poor reward for the pains I took, and the zeal I have shown in your defence.”

“And wherein consists the danger, then,” interrupted Jurissa, “since your eloquence has sped so well on our behalf?”

“You do not hear me out, my son,” replied the priest.  “The greybeards at Venice have chosen an envoy who is right well informed of your small numbers, bad equipment, and cowardice in broad daylight.  Nay, man, never grind your teeth.  I do but repeat the ambassador’s words; for I had stationed myself in an adjoining room, and heard all that passed between him and the archduke.  He said, moreover, that, far from being of use as a bulwark against Turkish encroachments, it was you who had afforded to the infidels a pretext to wrest more than one rich province from Christian potentates.  All this seemed to make some impression upon the archduke, and to plant suspicions in his mind which bode no good to you and your race.  For the present, the capture of those two Turks, one of whom is a person of rank, is testimony in your favour with his highness, to whom the crescent is an abomination.  Could he follow his own inclinations, he would, I fully believe, start a new crusade against the followers of Mahoun.  But come, Jurissa, this is no time for gossip.  You must not be seen in Gradiska.  Away with you!”