"I have come with her maidens and her child to take her home. Let me go
to her!"
And, as Girolamo stood, dumb and dazed, "I beseech thee--conceal her
not!"
Looking into each other's faces for one anguished moment, they knew,
without need of further speech, that she had gone from them both.
Girolamo gave a great and bitter cry, "My son!" folding his arms about
the younger man in measureless grief and compassion.
And when they could trust their footsteps they went desolately into the
house together.
* * * * *
"Nay," Girolamo had answered to every argument. "It is for thee to
remain in Venice with her child, that the Signoria be not wroth with the
Ca' Giustiniani, and for me to seek and care for her--mayhap, if heaven
be merciful, to bring her to thee again! She cannot be far to seek."
"In Padua!" cried Marcantonio, with sudden conviction. "They will sleep
in Padua to-night. It _was_ the voice of the Lady Beata!"
XXX
"Art thou sure, Marina?"
"Ay, Piero, though it were death to me; and death were sweeter----"
Her hair lay like a wreath of snow across her forehead, from stress of
the night's vigil, her lip trembled like a grieved child's, but in her
exquisite face there was the grace of a spirit strong and tender.
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