It was no moment for unnecessary
explanation or trivial objections.
"Our hope is in celerity," said Don Camillo. "Secresy is impossible."
He was still speaking, when the monk led the way from the room. Donna
Florinda and the half-breathless Violetta followed; Don Camillo drew the
arm of Annina under his own, and in a low voice bid her, at her peril,
refuse to obey.
The long suite of outer rooms was passed without meeting a single
observer of the extraordinary movement. But when the fugitive entered
the great hall that communicated with the principal stairs, they found
themselves in the centre of a dozen menials of both sexes.
"Place," cried the Duke of Sant' Agata, whose person and voice were
alike unknown to them. "Your mistress will breathe the air of the
canals."
Wonder and curiosity were alive in every countenance, but suspicion and
eager attention were uppermost in the features of many. The foot of
Donna Violetta had scarcely touched the pavement of the lower hall, when
several menials glided down the flight and quitted the palace by its
different outlets. Each sought those who engaged him in the service.
One flew along the narrow streets of the islands, to the residence of
the Signor Gradenigo; another sought his son; and one, ignorant of the
person of him he served, actually searched an agent of Don Camillo, to
impart a circumstance in which that noble was himself so conspicuous an
actor.
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