midnight
cried the monk , with fervor , `` or there is no faith in man . I have witnessed the death of one who was better fitted to live , as happily he was better fitted to die , than those who pronounced his doom . What a fearful state is Venice ! '' `` And such are they who are masters of thy person , Violetta , '' said Don Camillo : `` to these midnight murderers will thy happiness be consigned ! Tell us , father , does thy sad tragedy touch in any manner on the interests of this fair being ? for we are encircled here by mysteries that are as incomprehensible , while they are nearly as fearful as fate itself . '' The monk looked from one to the other , and a more human expression began to appear in his countenance .