Ter or the summer cell--chilling or scorching as the season might be--struggling to be cheerful, that the falsely accused might not feel a greater weight of misery. Oh! venerable and kind prince, you little know the burden that the feeble are often made to carry, for to you life has been sunshine; but there are millions who are condemned to do that they loathe, that they may not do that they dread." "Child, thou tell'st me nothing new." "Except in convincing you, Highness, that Jacopo is not the monster they would have him. I do not know the secret reasons of the councils for wishing the youth to lend himself to a deception that had nigh proved so fatal; but all is explained, we have naught now to fear. Come, father; we will leave the good and just Doge to go to rest, as suits his years, and we will return to gladden the heart of Jacopo with our success, and thank the blessed Maria for her favor." "Stay!" exclaimed the half-stifled old man. "Is this true that thou tellest me, girl:--Father, can it be so!" "Signore, I have said all that truth and my conscience have prompted." The prince seemed bewildered, turning his look from the motionless girl to the equally immovable member of the Three. "Come hither, child," he said, his voice trembling as he spoke. "Come hither, that I may bless thee." Gelsomina sprang forward, and knelt at the feet of her sovereign. Father Anselmo never uttered a clearer or more fervent benediction than that which fell from the lips of the Prince of Venice. He raised the daughter of the prison-keeper, and motioned for both his visitors to withdraw. Gelsomina willingly complied, for her heart was already in the cell of Jacopo, in the eagerness to communicate her success; but the Carmelite lingered to cast a look behind, like one better acquainted with the effects of worldly policy, when connected with the interests of those who pervert governments to the advantage of the privileged. As he passed through the door, however, he felt his hopes revive, for he saw the aged prince, unable any longer to suppress his feelings, hastening towards his still silent companion, with both hands extended, eyes moistening with tears, and a look that betrayed the emotions of one anxious to find relief in human sympathies. CHAPTER XXXI. "On--on-- It Is our knell, or that of Venice.