"
Still her deep eyes seemed to question him relentlessly, though she did
not speak; her gaze fascinated him, and he could not withdraw his eyes
until he had read in hers the great agony he had so lightly
estimated--the agony of a soul deeply religious, of unquestioning faith
in the strictest doctrine and dogma of the Church of Rome; the grief of
such a soul, tenderly compassionate for the suffering brought upon an
innocent people by no rebellion of its own; the terror of this
soul--passionately loving--measuring the horrors of an unblessed life
and death for all its dearest ones.
"All?" she had seemed to question him, leaning nearer, and Marcantonio
could not answer; but he saw, from the deepening horror in her eyes,
that she understood. She knew that _he_ had helped to bring the doom.
Oh, if he could but have told her that he had not voted--that he had
withheld his one little vote from Venice to comfort her! If, for this
once, he had failed to give what Venice expected of him, only for
Marina's sake!
He bent over her passionately, a thousand reasons rushing to his rescue,
clamoring to be told her.
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