Chapter 31 - Page 2

tranquilly placed his person before the block. His head was
bare, his cheek colorless, his throat and neck uncovered from the
shoulders, his body in its linen, and the rest of his form was clad in
the ordinary dress of a gondolier. He kneeled with his face bowed to the
block, repeated a prayer, and rising he faced the multitude with dignity
and composure. As his eye moved slowly over the array of human
countenances by which he was environed, a hectic glowed on his features,
for not one of them all betrayed sympathy in his sufferings. His breast
heaved, and those nearest to his person thought the self-command of the
miserable man was about to fail him. The result disappointed
expectation. There was a shudder, and the limbs settled into repose.

"Thou hast looked in vain among the multitude for a friendly eye?" said
the Carmelite, whose attention had been drawn to the convulsive
movement.

"None here have pity for an assassin."

"Remember thy Redeemer, son. He suffered ignominy and death for a race
that denied his Godhead, and derided his sorrows."

Jacopo crossed himself, and bowed his head in reverence.

"Hast thou more prayers to repeat, father?" demanded the chief of the
Sbirri; he who was particularly charged with the duty of the hour."
Though the illustrious councils are so sure in justice, they are
merciful to the souls of sinners."

"Are thy orders peremptory?" asked the monk, unconsciously fixing his
eye again on the windows of the palace. "Is it certain that the prisoner
is to die?"

The officer smiled at the simplicity of the question, but with the
apathy of one too much familiarized with human suffering to admit of
compassion.

"Do any doubt it?" he rejoined. "It is the lot of man, reverend monk;
and more especially is it the lot of those on whom the judgment of St.
Mark has alighted. It were better that your penitent looked to his
soul."

"Surely thou hast thy private and express commands! They have named a
minute when this bloody work is to be performed?"

"Holy Carmelite, I have. The time will not be weary, and you will do
well to make the most of it, unless you have faith already in the
prisoner's condition."

As he spoke, the officer threw a glance at the dial of the square, and
walked coolly away. The action left the priest and the prisoner again
alone between the columns. It was evident that the former could not yet
believe in the reality of the execution.

"Hast thou no hope, Jacopo?" he asked.

"Carmelite, in my God.

"They cannot commit this wrong! I shrived Antonio--I witnessed his fate,