"
"This from thee, Florinda! Thou, who hast so often trembled for their
anger! But go, if thou wilt--I am no longer the Senate's. Don Camillo
Monforte has my duty."
Donna Florinda had no intention of disputing this point, and as the
moment had now arrived when the most energetic was likely to lead, she
quietly submitted herself to the superior decision of her pupil. The
latter took the way along the portico, keeping always within its
shadows. In passing the gateway which opened towards the sea, the
fugitives had a glimpse of what was going on in the court. The sight
quickened their steps, and they now flew, rather than ran, along the
arched passage. In a minute they were on the bridge which crosses the
canal of St. Mark, still flying with all their force. A few mariners
were looking from their feluccas and gazing in curiosity, but the sight
of two terrified females, seeking refuge from a mob, had nothing in
itself likely to attract notice.
At this moment, a dark mass of human bodies appeared advancing along the
quay in the opposite direction. Arms glittered in the moon-beams, and
the measured tread of trained men became audible. The Dalmatians were
moving down from the arsenal in a body. Advance and retreat now seemed
equally impossible to the breathless fugitives. As decision and
self-possession are very different qualities, Donna Violetta did not
understand so readily as the circumstances required, that it was more
than probable the hirelings of the Republic would consider the flight
perfectly natural, as it had appeared to the curious gazers of the port.
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