DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.48088#0307
LAVINIA.
271
you are not very grateful to the agents of the law, who have delivered you from the robber’s
hands.”
“Most noble Sir, whoever you may be, you have no right to make insinuations, which affect
my honour,” replied Lavinia, in decided tones. “I demand in the name of the law, which you
represent, that you set me free immediately, and declare that I will answer no further questions,
unless I have my father at my side.”
“I understand your silence as well as your words, Donna Lavinia. 1 have warned you as
a father, but do not be surprised, that you do not return to your father’s house, but remain in
prison, until this mysterious and criminal intrigue of Karylantis is entirely cleared up.”
Lavinia uttered a cry; but she regained her courage, and thought it impossible that her
imprisonment could last long. The judge disappeared, and the silent masked figure led the
trembling maiden with much respect, slowly down one step after another, until she reached the
region of the prison-master Manetti, and his fearful comrades.
One door stood open, and Lavinia saw for one moment, by the light of a small lantern, the
damp walls of a little cell, her prison; then darkness shut her in, and the door slammed heavily
behind her.
During these events, two old men were sitting, playing chess, in the palace where Titian
lived, in a room richly hung with tapestry.
One had a firmly built figure, with short, dark hair, and a thick dark beard. His dress
was handsome, and his expression changing, his eyes sparkled over his game. This was Titian
himself. The other man was seventy, and Titian, his junior by four years, looked young in
comparison with him. A black velvet cap covered an almost bald head, with a high narrow
forehead, a long bent nose gave a sorrowful expression to the pale face, and the white beard
heightened the impression of old age. Titian’s companion was Giacomo Palma, afterwards called
Palma il Vecchio, in distinction from a younger painter of the same name. He played slowly,
and uncertainly, although evidently with a complete knowledge of the game.
“This game seems to be endless, father Giacomo,” observed Titian.
“Because,” replied Palma, “the thought constantly returns to my mind that Violante and I
ought to have been at our house at Murano long ago, instead of awaiting midnight here in the
city. Let us destroy our game—I had certainly lost it.”
“No such thing,—I am in great danger, as will soon appear. Let us finish it; the two
girls are amusing each other, or they would soon find their way here.”
At this moment the door was slowly opened, and a masked head looked in enquiringly.
Palma was so alarmed, that he overthrew the game, and folded his thin hands, as if in prayer.
“Now, Sir, come in,” exclaimed Titian. “You are certainly the bearer of a letter—may the
Saints pardon you, that more beautiful eyes guided the more beautiful hands which wrote it.”
The man, a tall, thin figure, entered, and now Titian appeared more alarmed, he looked like
a messenger of the Ten.
“Master Titian and Master Palma,” began the man in excited tones, “I summon you in the
name of the Doge and of the Council of Ten, to follow me, without any loss of time, to the hall
of justice, where you will receive your orders.”
“But, friend,” exclaimed Titian in dismay, as he remembered his well-known position, “J
must say, with all respect, that it is not usual to summon peaceful citizens from their homes in
the middle of the night to appear before the high tribunal. We are not men who exceed the
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271
you are not very grateful to the agents of the law, who have delivered you from the robber’s
hands.”
“Most noble Sir, whoever you may be, you have no right to make insinuations, which affect
my honour,” replied Lavinia, in decided tones. “I demand in the name of the law, which you
represent, that you set me free immediately, and declare that I will answer no further questions,
unless I have my father at my side.”
“I understand your silence as well as your words, Donna Lavinia. 1 have warned you as
a father, but do not be surprised, that you do not return to your father’s house, but remain in
prison, until this mysterious and criminal intrigue of Karylantis is entirely cleared up.”
Lavinia uttered a cry; but she regained her courage, and thought it impossible that her
imprisonment could last long. The judge disappeared, and the silent masked figure led the
trembling maiden with much respect, slowly down one step after another, until she reached the
region of the prison-master Manetti, and his fearful comrades.
One door stood open, and Lavinia saw for one moment, by the light of a small lantern, the
damp walls of a little cell, her prison; then darkness shut her in, and the door slammed heavily
behind her.
During these events, two old men were sitting, playing chess, in the palace where Titian
lived, in a room richly hung with tapestry.
One had a firmly built figure, with short, dark hair, and a thick dark beard. His dress
was handsome, and his expression changing, his eyes sparkled over his game. This was Titian
himself. The other man was seventy, and Titian, his junior by four years, looked young in
comparison with him. A black velvet cap covered an almost bald head, with a high narrow
forehead, a long bent nose gave a sorrowful expression to the pale face, and the white beard
heightened the impression of old age. Titian’s companion was Giacomo Palma, afterwards called
Palma il Vecchio, in distinction from a younger painter of the same name. He played slowly,
and uncertainly, although evidently with a complete knowledge of the game.
“This game seems to be endless, father Giacomo,” observed Titian.
“Because,” replied Palma, “the thought constantly returns to my mind that Violante and I
ought to have been at our house at Murano long ago, instead of awaiting midnight here in the
city. Let us destroy our game—I had certainly lost it.”
“No such thing,—I am in great danger, as will soon appear. Let us finish it; the two
girls are amusing each other, or they would soon find their way here.”
At this moment the door was slowly opened, and a masked head looked in enquiringly.
Palma was so alarmed, that he overthrew the game, and folded his thin hands, as if in prayer.
“Now, Sir, come in,” exclaimed Titian. “You are certainly the bearer of a letter—may the
Saints pardon you, that more beautiful eyes guided the more beautiful hands which wrote it.”
The man, a tall, thin figure, entered, and now Titian appeared more alarmed, he looked like
a messenger of the Ten.
“Master Titian and Master Palma,” began the man in excited tones, “I summon you in the
name of the Doge and of the Council of Ten, to follow me, without any loss of time, to the hall
of justice, where you will receive your orders.”
“But, friend,” exclaimed Titian in dismay, as he remembered his well-known position, “J
must say, with all respect, that it is not usual to summon peaceful citizens from their homes in
the middle of the night to appear before the high tribunal. We are not men who exceed the
34*