Anthony gave to my net, that it might soften your
hearts, and reasoned with you calmly on the nature of your acts, you
turn from me coldly, as if I were unfit to stand forth in defence of the
offspring that God hath left my age! This is not the boasted justice of
St. Mark, Venetian senators, but hardness of heart and a wasting of the
means of the poor, that would ill become the most grasping Hebrew of the
Rialto!"
"Hast thou aught more to urge, Antonio?" asked the judge, with the wily
design of unmasking the fisherman's entire soul.
"Is it not enough, Signore, that I urge my years, my poverty, my scars,
and my love for the boy? I know ye not, but though ye are hid behind the
folds of your robes and masks, still must ye be men. There may be among
ye a father, or perhaps some one who hath a still more sacred charge,
the child of a dead son. To him I speak. In vain ye talk of justice when
the weight of your power falls on them least able to bear it; and though
ye may delude yourselves, the meanest gondolier of the canal knows--"
He was stopped from uttering more by his companion, who rudely placed a
hand on his mouth.
"Why hast thou presumed to stop the complaints of Antonio?" sternly
demanded the judge.
"It was not decent, illustrious senators, to listen to such disrespect
in so noble a presence," Jacopo answered, bending reverently as he
spoke. "This old fisherman, dread Signori, is warmed by love for his
offspring, and he will utter that which, in his cooler moments, he will
repent.
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