"What means this visit?" demanded the prince, whose finger pointed to the shrinking form of the girl, while his eye rested steadily on that of the monk, "and that unusual companion? Neither the hour, nor the mode, is customary."
Father Anselmo stood before the Venetian sovereign for the first time. Accustomed, like all of that region, and more especially in that age, to calculate his chances of success warily, before venturing to disburden his mind, the monk fastened a penetrating look on his interrogator.
"Illustrious prince," he said, "we come petitioners for justice. They who are thus commissioned had need be bold, lest they do their own character, and their righteous office, discredit."
"Justice is the glory of St. Mark, and the happiness of his subjects. Thy course, father, is not according to established rules and wholesome restraints, but it may have its apology—name thy errand."
"There is one in the cells, condemned of the public tribunals, and he must die with the return of day, unless your princely authority interfere to save him."
"One condemned of the tribunals may merit his fate."
"I am the ghostly adviser of the unhappy youth, and in the execution of my sacred office I have learned that he is innocent."
"Didst thou say, condemned of the common judges-father?"
"Sentenced to die, highness, by a decree of the criminal tribunals."
The prince appeared relieved. So long as the affair had been public, there was at least reason to believe he might indulge his love of the species, by listening further, without offence to the tortuous policy of the state. Glancing his eye at the motionless inquisitor, as if to seek approbation, he advanced a step nearer to the Carmelite, with increasing interest in the application.