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These were days of dim forebodings, too, for the anxious men of action
who ruled the Republic. In the Broglio there was more often silence than
speech, as the older senators gathered in knots, with faces the more
expressive because of much reticence in words; the sense of approaching
contest increased their mental restlessness and made them outwardly more
stern. Each looked into another's stormy, resolute face, so passing many
a counsel whose echoes he feared to start under the rambling porticoes
of the Piazza, where friars of every order mingled freely with the
crowd, and idlers carried tales into dark, basement recesses, and one
knew not which was friend or foe. Meanwhile the Winged Lion, with those
terrible, jeweled, glaring eyes, and the primitive patron San
Teodoro--each high on his column, in a Nirvana of quiescence--kept
solemn semblance of vigil over that dread space where sometimes a horror
of which one dared not speak scattered the sunshine high in air between
those silent wardens of San Marco.


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