The moment's silence intensified her eagerness and hope; he felt them
burning in her eyes, and would not meet their prayer again. But she
could not wait, and her hand, fluttering restlessly upon his shoulder,
crept up to touch his cheek, thrilling him unbearably, as if each
sensitive finger-tip repeated her urgency. He must yield if she kept it
there. He snatched her hand to his lips and dropped it quickly, nerving
himself to speak steadily, lest he should betray irresolution--so
covering the tenderness which would have atoned for the positive
refusal.
"Marina, a Venetian may not demean himself to ask forgiveness of the
Holy Father in a matter wherein Venice hath not sinned--but Rome."
"Marco, my beloved, if Venice were mistaken! If thou and I might save
her!"
Her voice broke in a sob of agony, and her husband gathered her in his
arms, struggling not to weep with her. "Carina--carinissima!" he
repeated soothingly; yet, as she grew calmer, brought despair again.
"Nay, Marina, no loyal senator may question the decision of his
government; thou presumest too far; but thine illness and thy suffering
have made thee irresponsible.
Pages:
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382