"Whoever hath need to leave this cloister before the Inquiry of Venice
is satisfied, shall be served by the gondola of the _Piombi_--which
waits."
I Piombi! Those prisons under the leads where the heat was slow
torture--this was the meaning of the masked gondoliers!
Surely it was the Chief of the Ten who had spoken! Fra Antonio trembled
from head to foot; but was he not already far enough within the narrow,
winding passage to be hidden from the cruel gaze of that man of power?
Half an inch might make the difference between life and death; he folded
his black gown closer about him--stealthily--so that it might not
rustle, watching the faint shadow on the pavement in agony--what if his
hand had been seen as he passed it behind him to gather up the folds!
Those words could not be meant for him; they were merely a general
order; there were twenty men--forty men in that company more wicked than
he! He could not turn back and face them to glide into his place again;
it would be certain death; but when the Chief of the Ten or Father
Gianmaria should begin to speak, he must go on.
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