"Holy Maria be praised! I have still that happiness."

"It is a happiness--for surely a father would not have the heart to sell his own child to ambition and mercenary hopes! And thy mother?"

"Has long been bed-ridden, lady. I believe we should not have been here, but we have no other place so suitable for her sufferings as this jail."

"Gelsomina, thou art happier than I, even in thy prison. I am fatherless--motherless--I could almost say, friendless."

"And this from a lady of the Tiepolo!"

"All is not as it seems in this evil world, kind Gelsomina. We have had many Doges, but we have had much suffering. Thou mayest have heard that the house of which I come is reduced to a single, youthful girl like thyself, who has been left in the Senate's charge?"

"They speak little of these matters, lady, in Venice; and, of all here, none go so seldom into the square as I. Still have I heard of the beauty and riches of Donna Violetta. The last I hope is true; the first I now see is so."

The daughter of Tiepolo colored, in turn, but it was not in resentment.

"They have spoken in too much kindness for an orphan," she answered; "though that fatal wealth is perhaps not over-estimated. Thou knowest that the state charges itself with the care and establishment of all n.o.ble females, whom Providence has left fatherless?"

"Lady, I did not. It is kind of St. Mark to do it!"

"Thou wilt think differently, anon. Thou art young, Gelsomina, and hast pa.s.sed thy time in privacy?"

"True, lady. It is seldom I go further than my mother's room, or the cell of some suffering prisoner."

Violetta looked towards her governess, with an expression which seemed to say, that she antic.i.p.ated her appeal would be made in vain, to one so little exposed to the feelings of the world.

"Thou wilt not understand, then, that a n.o.ble female may have little inclination to comply with all the Senate's wishes, in disposing of her duties and affections?"

Gelsomina gazed at the fair speaker, but it was evident that she did not clearly comprehend the question. Again Violetta looked at the governess as if asking aid.

"The duties of our s.e.x are often painful," said Donna Florinda, understanding the appeal with female instinct. "Our attachments may not always follow the wishes of our friends. We may not choose, but we cannot always obey."

"I have heard that n.o.ble ladies are not suffered to see those to whom they are to be wedded, Signora, if that is what your eccellenza means, and, to me, the custom has always seemed unjust, if not cruel."

"And are females of thy cla.s.s permitted to make friends among those who may become dearer at any other day?" asked Violetta.

"Lady, we have that much freedom even in the prisons."

"Then art thou happier than those of the palaces! I will trust thee, generous girl, for thou canst not be unfaithful to the weakness and wrongs of thy s.e.x."

Gelsomina raised a hand, as if to stop the impetuous confidence of her guest, and then she listened intently.

"Few enter here," she said; "but there are many ways of learning secrets within these walls which are still unknown to me. Come deeper into the rooms, n.o.ble ladies, for here is a place that I have reason to think is safe, even from listeners."

The keeper's daughter led the way into the little room in which she was accustomed to converse with Jacopo.

"You were saying, lady, that I had a feeling for the weakness and helplessness of our s.e.x, and surely you did me justice."

Violetta had leisure to reflect an instant, in pa.s.sing from one room to the other, and she began her communications with more reserve. But the sensitive interest that a being of the gentle nature and secluded habits of Gelsomina took in her narrative, won upon her own natural frankness, and, in a manner nearly imperceptible to herself, she made the keeper's daughter mistress of most of the circ.u.mstances under which she had entered the prison.

The cheek of Gelsomina became colorless as she listened and when Donna Violetta ceased, every limb of her slight frame trembled with interest.

"The Senate is a fearful power to resist!" she said, speaking so low as hardly to be audible. "Have you reflected, lady, on the chances of what you do?"

"If I have not, it is now too late to change my intentions, I am the wife of the Duke of Sant' Agata, and can never wed another."

"Gesu! This is true. And yet, methinks, I would choose to die a nun rather than offend the council!"

"Thou knowest not, good girl, to what courage the heart of even a young wife is equal. Thou art still bound to thy father, in the instruction and habits of childhood, but thou mayest live to know that all thy hopes will centre in another."

Gelsomina ceased to tremble, and her mild eye brightened.

"The council is terrible," she answered, "but it must be more terrible to desert one to whom you have vowed duty and love at the altar!"

"Hast thou the means of concealing us, kind girl," interrupted Donna Florinda, "and canst thou, when this tumult shall be quieted, in any manner help us to further secresy or flight?"

"Lady, I have none. Even the streets and squares of Venice are nearly strangers to me. Santissima Maria! what would I give to know the ways of the town as well as my cousin Annina, who pa.s.ses at will from her father's shop to the Lido, and from St. Mark's to the Rialto, as her pleasure suits. I will send for my cousin, who will counsel us in this fearful strait!"

"Thy cousin! Hast thou a cousin named Annina?"

"Lady, Annina. My mother's sister's child."

"The daughter of a wine-seller called Tomaso Torti?"

"Do the n.o.ble dames of the city take such heed of their inferiors! This will charm my cousin, for she has great desires to be noted by the great."

"And does thy cousin come hither?"

"Rarely, lady--we are not of much intimacy. I suppose Annina finds a girl, simple and uninstructed as I, unworthy of her company. But she will not refuse to aid us in a danger like this. I know she little loves the Republic, for we have had words on its acts, and my cousin has been bolder of speech about them, than befits one of her years, in this prison."

"Gelsomina, thy cousin is a secret agent of the police, and unworthy of thy confidence--"

"Lady!"

"I do not speak without reason. Trust me, she is employed in duties that are unbecoming her s.e.x, and unworthy of thy confidence."

"n.o.ble dames, I will not say anything to do displeasure to your high rank and present distress, but you should not urge me to think thus of my mother's niece. You have been unhappy, and you may have cause to dislike the Republic, and you are safe here--but I do not desire to hear Annina censured."

Both Donna Florinda and her less experienced pupil knew enough of human nature, to consider this generous incredulity as a favorable sign of the integrity of her who manifested it, and they wisely contented themselves with stipulating that Annina should on no account be made acquainted with their situation. After this understanding, the three discussed more leisurely the prospect of the fugitives being able to quit the place, when ready, without detection.

At the suggestion of the governess, a servitor of the prison was sent out by Gelsomina, to observe the state of the square. He was particularly charged, though in a manner to avoid suspicion, to search for a Carmelite of the order of the bare-footed friars. On his return, the menial reported that the mob had quitted the court of the palace, and was gone to the cathedral, with the body of the fisherman who had so unexpectedly gained the prize in the regatta of the preceding day.

"Repeat your aves and go to sleep, Bella Gelsomina," concluded the sub-keeper, "for the fishermen have left off shouting to say their prayers. Per Diana! The bare-headed and bare-legged rascals are as impudent as if St. Mark were their inheritance! The n.o.ble patricians should give them a lesson in modesty, by sending every tenth knave among them to the galleys. Miscreants! to disturb the quiet of an orderly town with their vulgar complaints!"

"But thou hast said nothing of the friar; is he with the rioters?"

"There is a Carmelite at the altar--but my blood boiled at seeing such vagabonds disturb the peace of respectable persons, and I took little note of his air or years."

"Then thou failedst to do the errand on which I sent thee. It is now too late to repair thy fault. Thou canst return to thy charge."