"Ill at heart, Florinda."
"Deceive us not—haply thou hast more evil tidings—Venice—"
"Is a fearful state."
"Why hast thou quitted us?—why in a moment of so much importance to our pupil—a moment that may prove of the last influence on her happiness—hast thou been absent for a long hour?"
Violetta turned a surprised and unconscious glance towards the clock, but she spoke not.
"The servants of the state had need of me," returned the monk, easing the pain of his spirit by a groan.
"I understand thee, father;—thou hast shrived a penitent?"
"Daughter, I have: and few depart more at peace with God and their fellows!"
Donna Florinda murmured a short prayer for the soul of the dead, piously crossing herself as she concluded. Her example was imitated by her pupil, and even the lips of Don Camillo moved, while his head was bowed by the side of his fair companion in seeming reverence.
"'Twas a just end, father?" demanded Donna Florinda.