"The duty allotted to Antonio was to go, with a troop, to San Marco, and set the bell ringing. But when he arrived there he found the building strongly occupied by troops from the arsenal, who stopped him with their halberds. His followers dispersed, and he himself escaped in the darkness. Close behind him he heard the steps of a man pursuing him; then he felt himself seized. As he was about to run his captor through the body, he suddenly, in the dim light, recognized him to be Pietro, who cried--
"'"Save yourself, Antonio! get into my gondola. Everything is discovered. Bodoeri and Nenolo are in the hands of the Signoria. The Palace doors are guarded; the Doge is shut up in his rooms, watched like a criminal by his own faithless body-guard. Away! away!"
"'Half unconscious, Antonio suffered himself to be slipped into the gondola. There were distant voices, clangour of weapons, one or two cries of terror, and then, with the deepest darkness of the night, heavy, soundless silence.
"'Next morning the populace, broken with deadly fear, saw a terrible spectacle, which made the blood in all veins run cold. During the night the Council of Ten had passed sentence of death on all of the conspirators who had been taken; they were strangled, and thrown down to the Lesser Piazza di San Marco, from the gallery whence the Doge used to witness the festivities--alas! where Antonio had hovered before the beautiful Dogaressa when he handed her the flowers. Among the bodies were those of Marino Bodoeri and Bertuccio Nenolo. Two days afterwards old Marino Falieri was sentenced by the Council of Ten, and executed on the so-called Giant Staircase of the Palace.
"'Antonio had been creeping about, almost unconscious. He was not apprehended, for no one knew that he was one of the conspirators. When he saw Falieri's grey head fall, he awoke as from a heavy dream. With a cry of the wildest terror, and a shout of "Annunziata!" he burst into the Palace and ran through the galleries. No one stopped him. The guards stared at him, like men stupefied with the horrors which had been going on. The old woman came limping up to meet him, weeping, and loudly lamenting. She took him by the hand. In a few paces he was in Annunziata's chambers. She was lying senseless on the couch.
"'Antonio rushed to her, covered her hands with glowing kisses, and called her by the fondest and tenderest names. Slowly she opened her beautiful eyes. She saw Antonio; but at first it cost her an effort to realise who he was. But suddenly she rose, put both her arms about him, pressed him to her heart, bedewed him with hot tears, kissed his cheeks, his lips.
"'"Antonio!" she cried, "my Antonio, I cannot tell you how I love you! There is still a heaven here on earth! What are the deaths of my father, my uncle, my husband, in comparison with your love! Oh, come, let us fly from this scene of murder!"
"'With bitterest sorrow and most fervent love, with thousand kisses and thousand tears, they vowed eternal truth, and forgot the frightful events of that terrible time. Turning their sight from earth, they raised their eyes and looked into the heaven of love which had opened to them. The old woman advised flight to Chiozza. Antonio wished to gain the mainland, and thence reach his own country. Friend Pietro found him a boat, and it was waiting for them at the bridge behind the Palace. When it was night, Annunziata, deeply cloaked, crept down the steps with her lover and old Margareta, whose cloak was filled with jewel cases. They got on board; Antonio took the oars and away they fled, at a rapid, vigorous rate. Before them upon the waters the bright moonlight danced, like a gladsome herald of Love.
"'When they reached the open sea a strange hissing and whistling began to make itself heard in the air overhead; dark shadows gathered and came over the bright face of the moon, hanging like gloomy shrouds. The dancing shimmer the gleaming herald of Love--sank down into the dark depths, pregnant with hollow thunders. A storm arose, and, in angry rage, drove dark clouds before it. The boat laboured violently, and plunged up and down.
"'"Help! Oh Lord of Heaven!" the old woman screamed. Antonio, unable to work the oars, clasped Annunziata to his heart. Animated by his burning kisses, she pressed him to her heart in the most blissful rapture. "Oh, my Antonio!" "Oh, my Annunziata!" they cried, heedless of the raging tempest. Then the sea the jealous widow of beheaded Falieri--lifted up her foaming billows, like great, gigantic arms, grasped the lovers, and dragged them, with the old woman, down, down, to the fathomless abyss.'