“Who named him to the Signoria?”

“Donato knew him well, and Morosini and all our ablest men; and his knowledge of the ways of Rome, where he hath been much in legislation at the Vatican, is a power in the Senate—­which hath no mind to be taken in argument, nor to fail in courtesy, nor to show ignorance in its demands.  It is much to have a judge whose opinion our adversary must respect.”

“The Senate will be cautious—­will not forget the reverence owed to the Holy Church?” she asked, in warning, troubled at his bold use of words.

“Nay, but the Republic will first remember the duty owed to our prince, since it is a matter that toucheth the State,” he answered, uncompromisingly, “and for our duty to the Church—­leave that to our frate, than whom none is more devout.”

She was too keenly interested not to put the further question: 

“Is it safe for Fra Paolo to lead this controversy?  Is it pleasing to his order?”

Giustinian gave a contemptuous laugh.

“Thou mayest well ask!  Fra Paolo also would not hear of it at first, foreseeing where it might lead.  But from urgency of the Senate he yielded—­if the consent of the general of the Servi were first won.  Wherefore it was granted one knows not; but the purple robe had, perchance, some weight in the argument,—­being a pleasing honor,—­though one may dare assert that Fra Paolo himself gave it not a thought, having gathered honors all his life with no care for any greatness they might bring.”

“Nay, it was not this that won them,” said the Lady Laura, with decision, “but their hope that Fra Paolo would support the claims of the Holy Father; it could have been nothing else.”

“A hope most reasonable, were he a man of less remarkable force,” Giustinian answered confidently.  “But, as if he held a divining-rod, he findeth at once the heart of a matter, and Venice hath no fears.”

No, Venice had no fears.  If there had been heartburnings, they were all forgotten; her rulers were one in determination while they calmly weighed the balance between Church and State, and confidently awaited the issue.  The briefs had been opened and the chief Counsellor, the new Teologo Consultore, had given an opinion which filled the Senate with admiration.

“Two remedies might be found:  one, material, by forbidding the publication of the censures and preventing the execution of them, thus resisting illegitimate force by force clearly legitimate, so long as it doth not overpass the bounds of natural right of defense; and the other moral, which consisteth in an appeal to a future council.  But,” continued this sagacious Counsellor, after a word explanatory of the “future council,” “it were better to avoid this appeal in order not to irritate the Pope more than ever; and also because he who appealeth admiteth that the goodness of his cause is doubtful, whereas that of the Republic is indubitable.”