"They said an abbé was imprisoned in the Piombi; they said it was against the law to imprison ecclesiastics except by the authority of the Pope. Oh, Marco mio, I am afraid he will be very angry!"
"What else did they tell thee?" he questioned doggedly.
"They said there was a Canon Saraceni also—both imprisoned in Venice.
Marco mio, it is an insult to our Holy Father!"
"What else?"
"Nothing more—but only about some law of Venice that I did not understand; I wished to ask thee."
"And Fra Francesco was here and heard them talk?"
"Nay, Fra Francesco stays never long; and this was but a few moments before thy coming. I left the Sala Tiziana to see if all were going well in this little salon, and they were speaking of Vicenza, and I asked them. Wherefore art thou angry, Marco? What kept thee so late to-night?"
She had never seen him in such a mood; he had persistently refused to meet her beseeching glance; but now he drew a quick breath of relief, and came back to her side.
"It was this miserable matter of Vicenza that detained the Council in such lengthy session," he said, "and it was not fit to have been mentioned in thy presence, my sweet wife; I might well be angry. But since thou wert not there, I can pardon them."
"Yes, it was I who questioned them," she repeated eagerly, anxious to shield her guests from her husband's indignation, though she did not understand it. "They were talking of the Abbot of Nervessa and of his Holiness, and when I came they rose to do me honor; and I also, to be not lacking in courtesy, said, 'Le prego, Signori—I beg of you,' and bade them continue the talk in which they had seemed full of interest. Marco, in the Senate—do they know that the Pope is angry about the Abbot of Nervessa?"