It was the first time in the history of the Republic that such honors had been voted, for Venice was not wont to be over-generous in recognition of individual service; and this friend of statesmen, scholars, and princes temporal and spiritual, preserved the greatness of his simplicity unspoiled in prosperity and power—­as was possible only to a spirit ruled by inflexible principle and faith.

When the Senate voted him a palace near San Marco he preferred his simple quarters among his brethren of the Servi.  When, in proof of their appreciation, they doubled his salary and would have trebled it again—­“Nay,” said he, “it is but my duty that I have done.  May the honorable words of the Senate’s recognition but hold before me that which, by God’s help, I may yet accomplish”; and he would take but so much as he might bestow in charity and gifts to his convent, having for himself no need nor tastes that were not met by the modest provision of his order.

And when, having refused to go to Rome for reconciliation—­being not penitent—­or for preferment, which would not come without penitence, Fra Paolo still pursued, unmoved, the quiet tenor of his daily round, from convent to palace, without pause or tremor, in spite of continued warning;—­“My life,” he said, “is in the hands of God.  My duty hath he confided to mine own effort.”

* * * * *

The Lady Marina was a guest in the Ducal Palace, detained under surveillance, yet treated with much honor; her friends might see her in the presence of the ducal guards who watched within the doors of her sumptuous chambers, but she was not free to go to her own, who had guarded her with such laxity that in striving to reach the court of the enemy she had imperiled the dignity of the Republic by her silent censure.  Marcantonio had trembled more when, the morning after the storm, news had reached him that the fugitive was in the keeping of the Signoria, than if the message had announced her death.  What might he not expect of their jealousy!

But a ducal secretary had received him with courtesy and conducted him at once into the audience chamber of the Doge, who bade him send for her maidens that she might be cared for tenderly, for her stay at the Palace would be indefinite.  It was a royal command, against which pleading or rebellion were alike useless.

“Most Serene Prince!” cried Marcantonio in agony, “I beseech thee leave me that gift which a gracious Senate once so generously bestowed!  I have never swerved in loyalty—­though my heart was nigh to breaking that I might not grant her prayer!”

But one in attendance spoke quickly; for the face of the good Leonardo Donato was full of compassion, and he might not be trusted to serve the higher interests of the Republic.

“It is of the clemency of the Serenissimo,” said that inflexible voice, “that the Lady Marina reaps not the penalty of her flight and of her disloyalty to the State, since she hath sought to place her private judgment beyond the wisdom of the rulers of Venice.”