Daily in the oratory of her palace Mass was said, and Marina
passed long hours there on her knees alone, tracing the coming horror to
its most dread issue, trying to understand it wholly, that she might
pray with all her soul against it--this _Curse_ which was to blight the
lives of all she loved, and of which her dearest seemed to feel no
dread! She scarcely ate nor slept--watching, for the morning, when a new
intercession for mercy should rise from the oratory in her palace;
waiting for the evening, when she might go with her maidens to vespers
in San Marco. And still the days darkened in threats--had God forgotten
to be gracious?
And on this Christmas morning, when the Doge of Venice lay dying in his
halls of state, the nuns of San Donate, won by the prayers and gifts of
the Lady Marina, were making a procession to all the shrines of Murano,
praying, if by any means, God would stay this curse from falling upon
Venice.
No joy-bells rang to usher in the sunrise Mass of this memorable
Christmas day.
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