"
She tried to draw him nearer, but her hand dropped powerless. "The
vote?" she questioned, with her eager eyes; and, more falteringly, with
that hoarse, broken whisper which pierced his heart.
"It is well," he answered her tenderly. "Carinissima, all is well."
She fixed him with terror-stricken eyes, in which her soul seemed
burning and her lips moved with a question he could not hear. He bent
closer, touching her cheek caressingly.
"The vote?" she had asked again.
"Tell her the count," said the Lady Beata, with an imperious touch on
his wrist; "it is killing her."
The Senate had adjourned in triumph; without a dissenting voice Venice
had rallied to the support of her prince. Marcantonio had thought he
should be proud to tell her of this unanimous action of their august
body, which could not fail to restore her confidence and quiet her
fears. But now he could not find the words he sought, for never had he
looked into eyes so full of a comprehending woe.
"Marina," he began. "Carinissima--" helplessly repeating his powerless
assurance: "It is well.
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