In the midst of her pain she was proud that he also had conscience on
his side, however misguided it seemed to her. Why did the good Madonna
permit these differences? How was it possible for Marco, with his quick,
intellectual grasp, not to comprehend the truth--not to see the terrors
that Venice had brought upon herself! He was suffering also, but only
because she suffered; never would he understand her agony; the rudest,
crudest weight of the cross she must lift alone, weary and spent with
the bitter struggle.
She summoned all her strength to answer him as though the words were
easily spoken. "Since it is not Fra Francesco, whom we love," she said,
"I know no other; choose thou, my Marco."
His face flushed with pleasure that her resistance seemed conquered.
"And when we have found our confessor, shall we go together--thou and
the little one and I," he asked brightly, "to the Island of Sant' Elena,
which thou lovest, and we ourselves bring flowers to deck our chapel?
For it hath been long since Mass was said therein.
Pages:
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387