“Listen!” she exclaimed.

Her father and Francis looked at her in surprise, but instinctively listened for whatever sound she could have heard.  Then a deep, solemn sound boomed through the air.

“It is the bell of the Campanile tolling,” the merchant exclaimed.  “It is the signal for all citizens to take up arms.  Some terrible news has arrived.”

Hastily putting on his armour, the merchant started to Saint Mark’s, accompanied by Francis, who put on a steel cap, which he preferred to the heavy helmet, and a breastplate.  A crowd of citizens were pursuing the same direction.  The numbers thickened as they approached the Piazza, which they found on their arrival to be already thronged with people, who were densely packed in front of the palace, awaiting an explanation of the summons.

There was a look of deep anxiety on every face, for all felt that the news must be bad, indeed, which could have necessitated such a call.  Presently the doge, accompanied by the council, appeared in the balcony.  A complete silence fell upon the multitude, the bell ceased tolling, and not the slightest sound disturbed the stillness.  One of the councillors stepped to the front, for the doge, Contarini, was now seventy-two years old, and his voice could hardly have been heard over so wide an area.

“Citizens of the republic, gather, I pray you, all your fortitude and constancy, to hear the news which I have to tell.  It is bad news; but there is no reason for repining, still less for despair.  If Venice has but confidence in herself, such as she has throughout her history shown, when danger seemed imminent, be assured that we shall weather this storm, as we have done all that have preceded it.  Chioggia has fallen!”

An exclamation of pain and grief went up from the crowd.  The speaker held up his hand for silence.

“Chioggia, contrary to our hopes and expectations, has fallen; but we are proud to say, it has fallen from no lack of bravery on the part of its defenders.  As you know, for six days the brave podesta, Emo, and his troops have repulsed every attack; but yesterday an unforeseen accident occurred.  While our soldiers were holding their own, as usual, a Genoese fire ship exploded in the canal behind them.  The idea, unfortunately, seized the troops that the bridge was on fire.  The Genoese shouted ‘The bridge is in flames!’ and pressed onward, and our soldiers fell back, in some confusion, towards the bridge.  Here Emo, with four brave companions, made a noble stand, and for a time checked the advance of the foe; but he was driven back.  There was no time to destroy the communication behind him.  The enemy pressed on, and, mingled with our retreating soldiers, entered the town.  And so Chioggia was taken.  Our loss in killed is said to be eight hundred and sixty men; while the rest of the garrison—­four thousand in number—­were taken prisoners.”

A loud cry of anguish burst from the crowd.  Numbers of those present had relatives and friends among the garrison of Chioggia; and to all, the news of this terrible disaster was a profound blow.  Venice was open now to invasion.  In a few hours, the enemy might appear in her canals.