“Summa Parens clementia—­nocte surgentes——­”

XXXII

A Day momentous for Venice—­or was it Rome?—­had come and passed; it chronicled the right of the Crown to make its own laws within its own realm, without reference to ecclesiastical claims which had hitherto been found hampering; it defined the limits of Church and State, as no protest had hitherto done.

But Venice was calm in her triumph as she had been unmoved in disaster, and would not reflect the jubilant tone of the cardinal when he had returned from Rome empowered to withdraw the censures upon the terms stipulated by the Republic.

Yet, at this latest moment, the cardinal mediator, from lack of discretion, had come near to failure; for the terms being less favorable than he had desired to obtain for the Holy Father, he could not resist attempting to win some little further grace before pronouncing the final word, when the Signoria, weary of temporizing, told him plainly that his Holiness must come at once to a decision, or Venice would forget that she had so far yielded as to listen to any negotiations.

There was no pageant at the close of this long drama of which the princes of Europe had been interested spectators.  Venice sat smiling and unruffled under her April skies when the ducal secretary escorted the two famous prisoners from the dungeons of the Palace to the residence of the French ambassador, and there, without prejudice to the Republic’s right of jurisdiction over criminal ecclesiastics, explicitly stipulated, bestowed this gift—­so fitting for the gratification of a “Most Christian Majesty”—­upon the representative of France, who must indeed have breathed more freely when this testimonial of favor, with its precious burden of nameless crimes, had been consigned by him to one who waited as an appointee of the Pope.

The Doge and the Signoria sat in their accustomed places in their stately Assembly Chamber when the cardinal came with congratulations upon the withdrawal of the interdict, and the words of the Serenissimo, as he gave the promised parchment, were few and dignified.

“I thank the Lord our God that his Holiness hath assured himself of the purity of our intentions and the sincerity of our deeds.”

And the writing of that parchment, sealed with the seal of Saint Mark, stood thus: 

“Essendo state levate le Censure e restate parimente rivocato il Protesto.” ("The censures having been taken off the protest remains equally revoked.”)

It was whispered low that the cardinal, under his cape, made the sign of the cross and murmured a word of absolution.  But if the Signoria suspected his intention there was no movement of acquiescence; only, when the short ceremony of the passing of the document was completed, they observed the usual forms of courtesy with which the audience of so princely an envoy is closed when his mission is accomplished.