"
"Signor Doge, though deaf to pity, you cannot be deaf to nature."
The countenance of the Doge became livid; his lips trembled even to the
appearance of convulsions.
"Deal no longer in mystery, man of blood!" he said with energy. "What is
thy meaning?"
"I entreat your eccellenza to be calm. Necessity forces me to speak; for,
as you see, I stand between this revelation and the block--I am Bartolo
Contini!"
The groan that escaped the compressed lips of, the Doge, the manner in
which he sank into a seat, and the hue of death that settled over his aged
countenance, until it was more ghastly even than that of the unhappy
victim of violence, drew all present, in wonder and alarm, around his
chair. Signing for those who pressed upon him to give way, the Prince sat
gazing at Maso, with eyes that appeared ready to burst from their sockets.
"Thou Bartolomeo!" he uttered huskily, as if horror had frozen his voice.
"I am Bartolo, Signore, and no other. He who goes through many scenes hath
occasion for many names. Even your Highness travels at times under a
cloud.
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