Matilda’s eyes flashed with momentary triumph as Verezzi spoke thus, amid the alarming danger which impended her: under the displeasure of the inquisition, whose motives for prosecution are inscrutable, whose decrees are without appeal, her soul, in the possession of all it held dear on earth, secure of Verezzi’s affection, thrilled with pleasurable emotions, yet not unmixed with alarm. She now prepared to depart. Taking, therefore, out of all her domestics, but the faithful Ferdinand, Matilda, accompanied by Verezzi, although the evening was far advanced, threw herself into a chariot, and leaving every one at the castella unacquainted with her intentions, took the road through the forest which led to Venice. The convent bell, almost inaudible from distance, tolled ten as the carriage slowly ascended a steep which rose before it. “But how do you suppose, my Matilda,” said Verezzi, “that it will be possible for us to evade the scrutiny of the inquisition?” “Oh!” returned Matilda, “we must not appear in our true characters--we must disguise them.” “But,” inquired Verezzi, “what crime do you suppose the inquisition to allege against you?” “Heresy, I suppose,” said Matilda. “You know an enemy has nothing to do but lay an accusation of heresy against any unfortunate and innocent individual, and the victim expires in horrible tortures, or lingers the wretched remnant of his life in dark and solitary cells.” A convulsive sigh heaved Verezzi’s bosom. “And is that then to be my Matilda’s destiny?” he exclaimed in horror. “No--Heaven will never permit such excellence to suffer.” Meanwhile they had arrived at the Brenta. The Brenta’s stream glided silently beneath the midnight breeze towards the Adriatic. Towering poplars, which loftily raised their spiral forms on its bank, cast a gloomier shade upon the placid wave. Matilda and Verezzi entered a gondola, and the grey tints of approaching morn had streaked the eastern ether, before they entered the Grand Canal at Venice; and passing the Rialto, proceeded onwards to a small, though not inelegant mansion, in the eastern suburbs. Everything here, though not grand, was commodious; and as they entered it, Verezzi expressed his approbation of living here retired. Seemingly secure from the scrutiny of the inquisition, Matilda and Verezzi passed some days of uninterrupted happiness. At last, one evening, Verezzi, tired even with monotony of ecstasy, proposed to Matilda to take the gondola, and go to a festival which was to be celebrated at St. Mark’s Place. CHAPTER XIV. The evening was serene. Fleecy clouds floated on the horizon--the moon’s full orb, in cloudless majesty, hung high in air, and was reflected in silver brilliancy by every wave of the Adriatic, as, gently agitated by the evening breeze, they dashed against innumerable gondolas which crowded the Laguna.