"It was an unmerited one!" cried the monk, with fervor, "or there is no faith in man. I have witnessed the death of one who was better fitted to live, as happily he was better fitted to die, than those who pronounced his doom. What a fearful state is Venice!"
"And such are they who are masters of thy person, Violetta," said Don Camillo: "to these midnight murderers will thy happiness be consigned! Tell us, father, does thy sad tragedy touch in any manner on the interests of this fair being? for we are encircled here by mysteries that are as incomprehensible, while they are nearly as fearful as fate itself."
The monk looked from one to the other, and a more human expression began to appear in his countenance.
"Thou art right," he said; "such are the men who mean to dispose of the person of our pupil. Holy St. Mark pardon the prostitution of his revered name, and shield her with the virtue of his prayers!"
"Father, are we worthy to know more of that thou hast witnessed?"
"The secrets of the confessional are sacred, my son; but this hath been a disclosure to cover the living, not the dead, with shame."
"I see the hand of those up above in this!" for so most spoke of the Council of Three. "They have tampered with my right for years to suit their selfish purposes, and to my shame must I own it, they have driven me to a submission, in order to obtain justice, that as ill accords with my feelings as with my character."
"Nay, Camillo, thou art incapable of this injustice to thyself!"
"'Tis a fearful government, dearest, and its fruits are equally pernicious to the ruler and the subject. It hath, of all other dangers the greatest, the curse of secresy on its intentions, its acts, and its responsibilities!"
"Thou sayest true, my son; there is no security against oppression and wrong in a state but the fear of God or the fear of man. Of the first, Venice hath none, for too many souls share the odium of her sins; and as for the last, her deeds are hid from their knowledge."