Rosabella sank on her knees before a statue of the Virgin. "Blessed
Lady!" she exclaimed, with lifted hands, "have mercy on me! Let all
to-day end well!"
Pale as death did she enter the chamber in which, on the day before,
she had acknowledged her love for Flodoardo, and Flodoardo had sworn
to risk his life to obtain her. Flodoardo was not yet arrived.
The assembly was brilliant, the conversation was gay. They talked
over the politics of the day, and discussed the various occurrences
of Europe. The Cardinal and Contarino were engaged in a conference
with the Doge, while Memmo, Parozzi, and Falieri stood silent
together, and revolved the project whose execution was to take place
at midnight.
The weather was dark and tempestuous. The wind roared among the
waters of the canal, and the vanes of the palace-towers creaked
shrilly and discordantly. One storm of rain followed hard upon
another.
The clock struck four. The cheeks of Rosabella, if possible, became
paler than before. Andreas whispered something to his chamberlain.
In a few minutes the tread of armed men seemed approaching the doors
of the saloon, and soon after the clattering of weapons was heard.
Instantly a sudden silence reigned through the whole assembly. The
young courtiers broke off their love-speeches abruptly, and the
ladies stopped in their criticisms upon the last new fashions. The
statesmen dropped their political discussions, and gazed on each
other in silence and anxiety.
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