THE GOLDEN BOOK OF VENICE

A Historical Romance of the 16th Century

By

MRS. LAWRENCE TURNBULL

 'This noble citie doth in a manner chalenge this at my hands, that I should describe her . .. The fairest Lady, yet the richest Paragon, and Queene of Christendome. '

1900

 AS A TRIBUTE TO HIS GIFT OF VIVID HISTORIC NARRATION WHICH WAS THE DELIGHT OF MY CHILDHOOD, I INSCRIBE THIS ROMANCE TO THE MEMORY OF MY DEAR FATHER. 

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

I desire gratefully to acknowledge my indebtedness to many faithful, loving and able students of Venetian lore, without whose books my ownpresentation of Venice in the sixteenth century would have beenimpossible. Mr. Ruskin's name must always come first among the prophetsof this City of the Sea, but among others from whom I have gatheredside-lights I have found quite indispensable Mr. Horatio F. Brown's"Venice; An Historical Sketch of the Republic, " "Venetian Studies, " and"Life on the Lagoons"; Mr. Hare's suggestive little volume of "Venice";M. Léon Galibert's "Histoire de la République de Venise"; and Mr. Charles Yriarte's "Venice" and his work studied from the State papers inthe Frari, entitled "La vie d'un Patricien de Venise. "

Mr. Robertson's life of Fra Paolo Sarpi gave me the first hint of thisgreat personality, but my own portrait has been carefully studied fromthe volumes of his collected works which later responded to my search;these were collected and preserved for the Venetian government under thetitle of "Opere di Fra Paolo Sarpi, Servita, Teologo e Consultore dellaSerenissima Repubblica di Venezia" and included his life, letters and"opinions, " and all others of his writings which escaped destruction inthe fire of the Servite Convent, as well as many important extracts fromthe original manuscripts so destroyed and which had been transcribed byorder of the Doge, Marco Foscarini, a few years before. 

FRANCESE LITCHFIELD TURNBULL. 

_La-Paix, June_, 1900. 

PRELUDE

Venice, with her life and glory but a memory, is still the _cittanobilissima_, --a city of moods, --all beautiful to the beauty-lover, allmystic to the dreamer; between the wonderful blue of the water and thesky she floats like a mirage--visionary--unreal--and under the spell ofher fascination we are not critics, but lovers. We see the pathos, notthe scars of her desolation, and the splendor of her past is too much apart of her to be forgotten, though the gold is dim upon herpalace-fronts, and the sheen of her precious marbles has lost its bloom, and the colors of the laughing Giorgione have faded like his smile. 

But the very soul of Venetia is always hovering near, ready to beinvoked by those who confess her charm. When, under the glamor of herradiant skies the faded hues flash forth once more, there is no ruin nordecay, nor touch of conquering hand of man nor time, only a splendidcity of dreams, waiting in silence--as all visions wait--until thatinvisible, haunting spirit has turned the legends of her power intoactual activities. 

_THE GOLDEN BOOK OF VENICE_

I

Sea and sky were one glory of warmth and color this sunny Novembermorning in 1565, and there were signs of unusual activity in the CampoSan Rocco before the great church of Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari, which, if only brick without, was all glorious within, "in raiment ofneedlework" and "wrought gold. " And outside, the delicate tracery of thecornice was like a border of embroidery upon the sombre surface; thesculptured marble doorway was of surpassing richness, and the airy graceof the campanile detached itself against the entrancing blue of the sky, as one of those points of beauty for which Venice is memorable. 

Usually this small square, remote from the centres of traffic as fromthe homes of the nobility, seemed scarcely more than a landing-place forthe gondolas which were constantly bringing visitors and worshippersthither, as to a shrine; for this church was a sort of memorial abbey tothe illustrious dead of Venice, --her Doges, her generals, her artists, her heads of noble families, --and the monuments were in keeping with allits sumptuous decorations, for the Frati Minori of the convent to whichit belonged--just across the narrow lane at the side of the church--wereboth rich and generous, and many of its gifts and furnishings reflectedthe highest art to which modern Venice had attained. Between thewonderful, mystic, Eastern glory of San Marco, all shadows andsymbolisms and harmonies, and the positive, realistic assertions, aesthetic and spiritual, of the Frari, lay the entire reach of the artand religion of the Most Serene Republic. 

The church was ancient enough to be a treasure-house for the historian, and it had been restored, with much magnificence, less than a centurybefore, --which was modern for Venice, --while innumerable gifts hadbrought its treasures down to the days of Titian and Tintoret. 

To-day the people were coming in throngs, as to a _festa_, on foot fromunder the Portico di Zen, across the little marble bridge which spannedthe narrow canal; on foot also from the network of narrow paved lanes, or _calle_, which led off into a densely populated quarter; for to-daythe people had free right of entrance, equally with those others whocame in gondolas, liveried and otherwise, from more distant andaristocratic neighborhoods. This pleasant possibility of entrancesufficed for the crowd at large, who were not learned, and who preferredthe attractions of the outside show to the philosophical debate whichwas the cause of all this agreeable excitement, and which was presentlyto take place in the great church before a vast assembly of nobles andclergy and representatives from the Universities of Padua, Mantua, andBologna; and outside, in the glowing sunshine, with the strangers andthe confusion, the shifting sounds and lights, the ceaseless unlading ofgondolas and massing and changing of colors, every minute was arealization of the people's ideal of happiness. 

Brown, bare-legged boys flocked from San Pantaleone and the people'squarters on the smaller canals, remitting, for the nonce, theirabsorbing pastimes of crabbing and petty gambling, and ragged andradiant, stretched themselves luxuriously along the edge of the littlequay, faces downward, emphasizing their humorous running commentarieswith excited movements of the bare, upturned feet; while the gondolierslanded their passengers to a lively refrain of "_Stali_!" their cursesand appeals to the Madonna blending not discordantly with the generalbabel of sound which gives such a sense of companionship inVenice--human voices calling in ceaseless interchange from shore toshore, resonant in the brilliant atmosphere, quarrels softened tomelodies across the water, cries of the gondoliers telling of ceaselessmotion, the constant lap and plash of the wavelets and the drip of theoars making a soothing undertone of content. 

From time to time staccato notes of delight added a distinct jubilantquality to this symphony, heralding the arrival of some group of Churchdignitaries from one or other of the seven principal parishes of Venice, gorgeous in robes of high festival and displaying the choicest oftreasures from sacristies munificently endowed, as was meet for anecclesiastical body to whom belonged one half of the area of Venice, with wealth proportionate. 

Frequent delegations from the lively crowd of the populace--flashingwith repartee, seemly or unseemly, as they gathered close to the doorjust under the marble slab with its solemn appeal to reverence, "Rispettati la Casa di Dio"--penetrated into the Frari to see where themore pleasure could be gotten, as also to claim their right to be there;for this pageant was for the people also, which they did not forget, andtheir good-humored ripple of comment was tolerant, even when mostcritical. But outside one could have all of the festa that was worthseeing, with the sunshine added, --the glorious sunshine of this Novemberday, cold enough to fill the air with sparkle, --and the boys, at least, were sure to return to the free enjoyment impossible within. 

A group of young nobles, in silken hose and velvet mantles, were metwith ecstatic approval and sallies deftly personal. Since the beginningof the Council of Trent, which was still sitting, philosophy had becomethe mode in Venice, and had grown to be a topic of absorbing interest byno means confined to Churchmen; and young men of fashion took courses oftraining in the latest and most intellectual accomplishment. 

Confraternities of every order were arriving in stately processions, their banners borne before them by gondoliers gaudy and awkward insleazy white tunics, with brilliant cotton sashes--habiliments whichpossessed a singular power of relieving these sun-browned sons of thelagoon of every vestige of their native grace. On such days of Churchfestival--and these alone--they might have been mistaken for peasants ofsome prosaic land, instead of the graceful, free-born Venetians thatthey were, as, with no hint of their natural rhythm of motion, theyfiled in cramped and orderly procession through the avenue that openedto them in the crowd to the door of the church, where they disappearedbehind the great leather curtain. 

It was a great day for the friars of the Servi, who were rivals of theFrari both in learning and splendor, and the entire Servite Brotherhood, black-robed and white-cowled, was just coming in sight over the littlemarble bridge, preceded by youthful choristers, chanting as they cameand bearing with them that famous banner which had been sent them as agift from their oldest chapter of San Annunziata in Florence, and whichwas the early work of Raphael. 

A small urchin, leaning far over the edge of the quay and craning hisneck upward for a better view, reported some special attraction in thisapproaching group which elicited yells of vociferous greeting from hiscolleagues, with such forceful emphasis of his own curling, expressivetoes, that he lost his balance and rolled over into the water; fromwhich he was promptly rescued by a human ladder, dexterously let down tohim in sections, without a moment's hesitation, by his allies, who, likeall Venetian boys of the populace, were amphibious animals, full ofpranks. 

But now there was no more time for fooling on the quay, for at the greatend-window of the library of the convent of the Frari it could be seenthat a procession of this body was forming and would presently enter thechurch, and the fun would begin for those who understood Latin. 

A round-faced friar was giving obliging information. The contest wouldbe between the Frari and the Servi; there was a new brother who had justentered their order, --and very learned, it was said, --but the name wasnot known. He would appear to respond to the propositions of the Frari. 

"Yes, the theses would be in Latin--and harder, it was said, had neverbeen seen. There were the theses in one of those black frames, at theside of the great door. "

"But Latin is no good, except in missals, for women and priests toread. "

The gondolier who owned the voice was undiscoverable among the crowd, and the remark passed with some humorous retaliation. 

Hints of the day's entertainment sifted about, with much more, --eachsuggestion, true or otherwise, waking its little ripple of interest, --assome nearest the curtain lifted it up, went in, and returned, bringingreports. 

"The church is filled with great ones, and Mass is going on, " a smallscout reported; "and that was Don Ambrogio Morelli that just went inwith a lady--our old Abbé from the school at San Marcuolo--Beppo goesthere now! And don't some of us remember Pierino--always studying andgood for nothing, and not knowing enough to wade out of a _rio_? TheMadonna will have hard work to look after _him_!"

"Don Ambrogio just wants to cram us boys, " Beppo confessed, in aconfidential tone; "but it's no use knowing too much, even for a priest. For once, at San Marcuolo--true as true, faith of the Madonna!--one ofthose priests told the people one day in his sermon that there were noghosts!"

The boy crossed himself and drew a quick breath, which increased theinterest of his auditors. 

"_Ebbene_!" he continued, in an impressive, awestruck whisper. "He hadto come out of his bed at night--Santissima Maria!--and it was theghosts of all the people buried in San Marcuolo who dragged him andkicked him to teach him better, because he wanted to make believe thedead stayed in their graves! So where was the use of his Latin?"

"Pierino will be like his uncle, the Abbé Morelli, some day; they say healso will be a priest. "

"I believe thee, " said Beppo, earnestly; "and that was he going inbehind the banner, with the Servi. "

The little fellows made an instant rush for the door, and squeezedthemselves in behind the poor old women of the neighborhood for whomfestivals were perquisites, and who, maimed or deformed, knelt on thestone floor close to the entrance, while with keenly observant, ubiquitous eyes they proffered their _aves_ and their petitions for almswith the same exemplary patience and fervor--"Per l'amor di Dio, Signori!"

The body of the church, from the door to the great white marble screenof the choir and from column to column, was filled with an assembly inwhich the brilliant and scholarly elements predominated; and seenthrough the marvelous fretwork of this screen of leafage and scroll andstatue and arch, intricately wrought and enhanced with gilding, thechoir presented an almost bewildering pageant. The dark wood backgroundof the stalls and canopies, elaborately carved and polished and enrichedwith mosaics, each surmounted with its benediction of a gilded wingedcherub's head, framed a splendid figure in sacerdotal robes. Through thesmall, octagonal panes of the little windows encircling the choir--rowupon row, like an antique necklace of opals set in frostedstonework--the sunlight slanted in a rainbow mist, broken by splashes ofyellow flame from great wax candles in immense golden candlesticks, rising from the floor and steps of the altar, as from the altar itself. From great brass censers, swinging low by exquisite Venetian chainwork, fragrant smoke curled upward, crossing with slender rays of blue thegold webwork of the sunlight; and on either side golden lanterns rosehigh on scarlet poles, above the heads of the friars who crowded thechurch. 

On the bishop's throne, surrounded by the bishops of the dioceses ofVenice, sat the Patriarch, who had been graciously permitted to honorthis occasion, as it had no political significance; and opposite him FraMarco Germano, the head of the order of the Frari, presided in a statescarcely less regal. 

His splendid gift, the masterpiece of Titian, had been fitted into thepolished marble framework over the great altar, and never had the masterso excelled himself as in this glorious "Assumption. " The beauty, thepower, the persuasive sense of motion in the figure of the Madonna, which seemed divinely upborne, --the loveliness of the infant cherubs, the group of the Apostles solemnly attesting the mysterious event, --weresingularly and inimitably impressive, full of aspiration and faith, compelling the serious recognition of the sacredness and greatness ofthe Christian mystery. 

The choir-screen terminated in pulpits at either side, and here againthe Apostles stood in solemn guardianship on its broad parapet--butemblems, rather; of the stony rigidity of doctrines which have beenshaped by the minds of men from some little phase of truth, than of thatglowing, spiritualized, human sympathy which, as the soul of man growsupward into comprehension, is the apostle of an ever widening truth. Andover the richly sculptured central arch which forms the entrance to thechoir, against the incongruous glitter of gold and jewels andmagnificent garments and lights and sumptuous, overwrought details--thevery extravagance of the Renaissance--a great black marble crucifix borealoft the most solemn Symbol of the Christian Faith. 

The religious ceremonial with which the festival had opened was over, and down the aisles on either side, past the family altars, with theirinnumerable candles and lanterns and censers, --ceaselessly smoking inmemorial of the honored dead, --the brothers of the Frari and the Servimarched in solemn procession to the chant of the acolytes, returning tomass themselves in the transepts, in fuller view of the pulpits, beforethe contest began. The Frari had taken their position on the right, under the elaborate hanging tomb of Fra Pacifico--a mass of sculpture, rococo, and gilding; the incense rising from the censer swinging belowthe coffin of the saint carried the eye insensibly upward to thegrotesque canopy, where cumbrous marble clouds were compacted of densemasses of saints' and cherubs' heads with uncompromising golden halos. 

Some of the younger brothers scattered leaflets containing heads of thetheses. 

There was a stir among the crowd; a few went out, having witnessed thepageant; but there was a flutter of increased interest among those whoremained, as a venerable man, in the garb of the Frari, mounted thepulpit on the right. 

The Abbé Morelli sat in an attitude of breathless interest, and now alook of intense anxiety crossed his face. "It is Fra Teodoro, the ablestdisputant of the Frari!" he exclaimed. "The trial is too great. "

The lady with him drew closer, arranging the folds of the ample veilwhich partially concealed her face, so that she might watch moreclosely. But it was on Don Ambrogio Morelli that she fixed her gaze withpainful intensity, reading the success or failure of the orator in herbrother's countenance. 

"Ambrogio!" she entreated, when the argument had been presented andreceived with every sign of triumph that the sacredness of the placemade decorous, "thou knowest that I have no understanding of theLatin--was it unanswerable?"

"Nay, " her brother answered, uneasily; "it was fine, surely; but have nofear, Fra Teodoro is not incontrovertible, and the Servi have bettermethods. "

"May one ask the name of the disputant who is to respond?" a strangerquestioned courteously of Don Ambrogio. 

"It is a brother who hath but entered their order yesterday, " DonAmbrogio answered, with some hesitation, "by name Pierino--nay, FraPaolo. He is reputed learned; yet if the methods of the order be strangeto him, one should grant indulgence. For he is reputed learned----"

He was conscious of repeating the words for his own encouragement, witha heart less brave than he could have wished. But the information waspleasantly echoed about, as the ranks of the Servi parted and an oldman, with a face full of benignity, came forward, holding the hand of aboy with blue eyes and light hair, who walked timidly with him to thepulpit on the left, where the older man encouraged the shrinkingdisputant to mount the stair. 

There was a murmur of astonishment as the young face appeared in thetribunal of that grave assembly. 

"Impossible! It is only a child!"

It was, in truth, a strange picture; this child of thirteen, small anddelicate for his years, yet with a face of singular freshness andgravity, his youthfulness heightened by cassock and cowl--a unique, simple figure, against the bizarre magnificence of the background, thecentral point of interest for that learned and brilliant assembly, as hestood there above the beautiful kneeling angel who held the Book of theLaw, just under the pulpit. 

For a moment he seemed unable to face his audience, then, with aneffort, he raised his hand, nervously pushing back the white folds ofhis unaccustomed cowl, and casting a look of perplexity over the sea offaces before him; but the expression of trouble slowly cleared away ashis eyes met those of a friar, grave and bent, who had stepped out fromthe company of the Servi and fixed upon the boy a steadying gaze ofassurance, triumph, and command. It was Fra Gianmaria, who was knownthroughout Venice for his great learning. 

"Pierino!" broke from the mother, in a tone of quick emotion, as she sawher boy for the first time in the dress of his order, which thrust, asit were, the claims of her motherhood quite away; it was so soon tosurrender all the beautiful romance of mother and child, so soon to havedone with the joy of watching the development which had long outstrippedher leadership, so soon to consent to the absolute parting of the ways!

She had not willed it so, and she was weary from the struggle. 

But the boy was satisfied; the presence of his stern and learned mentorsufficed to restore his composure; he did not even see his mother's faceso near him, piteous in its appeal for a single glance to confess hisneed of her. 

"Nay, have no fear, " Don Ambrogio counseled, his face glowing withpride; "the boy is a wonder. "

The good Fra Giulio, turning back from the pulpit stairs, saw the facesof the two whose hearts were hanging on the words of the child; he wentdirectly to them and sat down beside Donna Isabella, for he had a tenderheart and he guessed her trouble. "I also, " he said, leaning over herand speaking low, "I also love the boy, and while I live will I care forhim. He shall lack for nothing. "

It was a promise of great comfort; for Pierino--she could not call himby the new name--would need such loving care; already the mother's pulsebeat more tranquilly, and she almost smiled her gratitude in thelarge-hearted friar's face. 

Then Fra Gianmaria, his mentor, seeing that the boy had gained courage, came also to a seat beside Donna Isabella, with a look of radiantcongratulation; for he had been the boy's teacher ever since the littlelad had passed beyond the limits of Don Ambrogio's modest attainments. Although she had resented the power of Fra Gianmaria over Pierino, shewas proud of the confidence of the learned friar in her child; alreadyshe began to teach herself to accept pride in the place of the lowlier, happier, daily love she must learn to do without. Her face grew colderand more composed; Don Ambrogio gave her a nod of approval. 

"It _is_ Pierino!" the bare-legged Beppo proclaimed, pushing his waybetween dignitaries and elegant nobles and taking a position, inwide-eyed astonishment, in front of the pulpit, where he could watchevery movement of his quondam school-fellow, whose words carried nomeaning to his unlearned ears. But his heart throbbed with suddenloyalty in seeing his comrade the centre of such a festa; Beppo wouldstay and help him to get fair play, if he should need it, since it waswell known that Pierino could not fight, for all his Latin!

But the little fellow in robe and cowl had neither eyes nor thoughts forhis vast audience when he once gathered courage to begin--no memory forthe pride of his teachers, no perception of his mother's yearning;shrinking and timid as he was, the first voicing of his own thought, inhis childish treble voice, put him in presence of a problem and banishedall other consciousness. It was merely a question to be met andanswered, and his wonderful reasoning faculty stilled every otheremotion. His voice grew positive as his thought asserted itself; hislearning was a mystery, but argument after argument was met andconquered with the quoted wisdom of unanswerable names. 

One after another the great men left the choir and came down into thearea before the pulpits, that they might lose nothing. 

One after another the Frari chose out champions to confute thechild-philosopher, but he was armed on every side; and the childishface, the boyish manner and voice lent a wonderful charm to the words heuttered, which were not eloquent, but absolutely dispassionate andreasonable, and the fewest by which he might prove his claim. 

Again and again his audience forgot themselves in murmurs of applause, rising beyond decorum, and once into a storm of approbation; then histimidity returned, he became self-conscious, fumbling with the whitecowl that hung partly over his face, forgetting that it was not a hat, and gravely taking it off in salute. 

The next day it was proclaimed on the Piazza, as a bit of news for thepeople of Venice--for which, indeed, those who had not witnessed thecontest in the church of the Frari cared little and understoodnothing--that "in the Philosophical Contest which had taken placebetween the Friars of the Frari and the Friars of the Servi, the victoryhad been won by Fra Paolo Sarpi, of the Servi, who had honorablytriumphed through his vast understanding of the wisdom of the Fathers ofthe Church. "

This was also published in the black frame beside the great door of theFrari and posted upon the entrance to the church of the Servi, while inthe refectories of the respective convents it formed a theme ofabsorbing interest. 

The Frari discussed the possibilities of childish mouthpieces forlearned doctors, miraculously concealed--but low, for fear of scandal. The Servi said it out, for all to hear, "that it was a modern wonder ofa Child in the Temple!"

But Fra Gianmaria hushed them, and was afraid; for often while he taughthe came upon some new surprise, for he perceived that the boy's mindheld some hidden spring of knowledge which was to him unfathomable. 

"It is most wonderful, " he said one evening to Fra Giulio, as theytalked together in the cloister after vespers; "I solemnly declare thatit hath happened to me to ask him a question of which I, verily, knewnot the answer; and he, keeping in quiet thought for some moments, hathso lucidly responded that his words have carried with them theconviction that he had made a discovery which I knew not. "

"It is some lesson which Don Ambrogio hath taught him. "

"Not so--for Don Ambrogio hath little learning; but Paolo will cover uswith honor. In learning he is never weary, yet hath he an understandinggreater than mine own, and in docility he hath no equal. In his duty inthe convent and in the church he is even more punctilious. "

"Is it strange--or is it well, " asked Fra Giulio with hesitation, "thatin this year he hath spent with us he asks not for his mother, nor thelittle maid his sister, nor seemeth to grieve for them? For the boy isyoung. "

"Nay, " answered Fra Gianmaria, sternly; "it is no lack, but a grace thathath been granted him. "

"Knowledge is a wonderful mystery, " Fra Giulio answered; but softly tohimself, as he crossed the cloister, he added, "but love is sweet, andthe boy is very young. "

The boy was kneeling placidly before the crucifix in his cell when FraGiulio went to give him his nightly benediction; but the good friar'sheart was troubled with tenderness because of a vision, that would notleave him, of a hungering mother's face. 

II

Many years later one of the great artists of Venice, wandering about atsunset with an elusive vision of some wonderful picture stirringimpatience within his soul, found a maiden sitting under thevine-covered pergola of the Traghetto San Maurizio, where she waswaiting for her brother-in-law, who would presently touch at this ferryon his homeward way to Murano. A little child lay asleep in her arms, his blond head, which pitying Nature had kept beautiful, resting againsther breast; the meagre body was hidden beneath the folds of her mantle, which, in the graceful fashion of those days, passed over her head andfell below the knees; her face, very beautiful and tender, was bent overthe little sufferer, who had forgotten his pain in the weariness it hadbrought him as a boon. 

The delicate purple bells of the vine upon the trellis stirred in theevening breeze, making a shimmer of perfume and color about her, like asuggestion of an aureole; and in the arbor, as in one of those homelyshrines which everywhere make part of the Venetian life, she seemedaloof as some ideal of an earlier Christian age from the restless, voluble group upon the tiny quay. 

There were _facchini_--those doers of nondescript smallest services, quarreling amiably to pass the time, springing forward for custom as thegondolas neared the steps; _gransieri_--the licensed traghetto beggars, ragged and picturesque, pushing past with their long, crooked poles, under pretence of drawing the gondolas to shore; one or two women fromthe islands, filling the moments with swift, declamatory speech untilthe gondola of Giambattista or of Jacopo should close the colloquy; anolder peasant, tranquilly kneeling to the Madonna of the traghetto, amidthe clatter, while steaming greasy odors from her housewifely basket ofVenetian dainties mount slowly, like some travesty of incense, and cloudthe humble shrine. Two or three comers swell the group from the recessesof the dark little shop behind, for no other reason than that life ispleasant where so much is going on; and some maiden, into whose life adawning romance is just creeping, confesses it with a brighter color asshe hangs, half-timidly, her bunch of tinselled flowers before the redlamp of the good little Madonna of this _traghetto benedetto_, whosegondoliers are the bravest in all Venice! Meanwhile the boatmen, coming, going, or waiting, keep up a lively chatter. 

And under the trellis, as if far removed, the sleeping child and Marinaof Murano bending over him a face glorified with its story of love andcompassion, are like a living Rafaello!

"The _bambino_ is beautiful, " said the artist, drawing nearer, butspeaking reverently, for he knew that he had found the face he had beenseeking for his Madonna for the altar of the Servi. "What doth he like, your little one? For I am a friend to the _bambini_, and the _poverina_hath pain to bear. "

She was more beautiful still when she smiled and the anxiety died out ofher girlish face for a moment, in gratitude for the sympathy. "Eccellenza, thanks, " she answered simply; "he has a beautiful face. Sometimes when he has flowers in his little hand he smiles and is quitestill. "

But the radiant look passed swiftly with the remembrance of the painthat would come to the child on waking, and she kissed the tiny fingersthat lay over the edge of her mantle with a movement of irrepressibletenderness, lapsing at once into reverie; while the artist, full of theenthusiasm of creation, stood dreaming of his picture. This Holy Mothershould be greater, more compassionate, nearer to the people than anyMadonna he had ever painted; for never had he noted in any face beforesuch a passion of love and pity. In that moment of stillness the sunsetlights, intensifying, cast a glow about her; the child, half-waking, stretched up his tiny hand and touched her cheek with a rare caress, andthe light in her face was a radiance never to be forgotten. TheVeronese's wonderful _Madonna del Sorriso_ leaped to instant life; a_smile_ full of the pathos of human suffering, tender in comprehension, perfect in faith--this, which this moment of inspiration had revealed tohim, would he paint for the consolation of those who should kneel beforethe altar of the Servi!

She was busy with the child, putting him gently on the ground as agondola approached; he, with his thought in intense realization, fixingthe peculiar beauty of these sunset clouds in his artist memory as solecolor-scheme of his picture; for this grave, sweet face, with its pale, fair tones and profusion of soft brown hair, would not bear the vividdraperies that the Veronese was wont to fashion--the mantle must be agray cloud, pink flushed, with delicate sunset borderings where it sweptaway to shroud the child; the beauty of his creation should be in thatsmile of exquisite compassion, and this wonderful sunset in which itshould glow forever!

It was a rare moment with the Veronese, in which he seemed lifted abovehimself; the revelation of the face had seized him, translating him intothe poetic atmosphere which he rarely attained; the harmonies of thevision were so perfect that they sufficed for the over-sumptuousness ofcolor and detail which were usually features of his conceptions. 

Some one called impatiently from the gondola in rude, quick tones, andthe artist woke from his reverie. The maiden lingered on the step for aword of adieu to this stranger who wished to give the little onepleasure, but she dared not disturb him, for he was some greatsignor--so she interpreted his dress and bearing--and she was only amaiden of Murano. 

He was still under the spell of his great moment, and he was in thepresence of one who should help him to make it immortal; he uncoveredhis head with a motion of courtly deference he did not often assume ashe started forward over the rough planks of the traghetto. "Signora, where shall I bring the flowers to make the little one smile?"

"To Murano, near the Stabilimento Magagnati, Eccellenza, " she answeredwithout hesitation, lifting the baby in her arms to escape the roughhelp of the gondolier, who reached forward to hasten his stumblingmovements. 

And so they floated off from the traghetto--the Madonna that was to be, into the deepening twilight, while the Veronese, a splendid andincongruous figure amid these lowly surroundings, leaned against thepaltry column that supported the shrine, wrapped in a delicious reverieof creation; for he was unused to failure and he had no doubts, thoughhe had not yet proffered his request. 

"To-morrow, " he said, "I will paint that face!"

 * * * * *

"By our Lady of Murano!" the gondolier cried suddenly. "He spoke to theelike a queen--and it was Paolo Cagliari! What did he want with thee?"

"Not me, Piero; it was the child. He wished to give him flowers. I knewhe must be great to care thus for our 'bimbo. ' It was really he--theVeronese?"

"The child! Santa Maria! He is not too much like a cherub that the greatpainter should notice him!"

The baby threw out his little clenched fist, striking against theprotecting arms that held him closer, his face drawn with sudden pain;for a moment he fought against Marina, and then, the spasm over, settledwearily to sleep in her arms. 

"Poverino!" said the gondolier softly, while Marina crooned over him anAve Maria, and the gondola glided noiselessly to its cadence. 

"Piero, " she said, looking up with eyes full of tears, "sometimes Ithink I cannot bear it! He needs thy prayers as well as mine--wilt thounot ask our Lady of San Donato to be kinder to him? And I have seento-day, on the Rialto, a beautiful lamp, with angels' heads. Thoushouldst make an offering----"

The gondolier shook his head and shrugged his shoulders; he had littlefaith or reverence. "I will say my aves, _poveriello_, " he promised;"but the lamps are already too many in San Donato. And for the bambino, I will go not only once, but twice this year to confession--the laws ofour traghetto ask not so much, since once is enough. But thou art evenstricter with thy rules for me. "

She did not answer, and they floated on in silence. 

"To-morrow, " said Piero at length, "there is festa in San Pietro diCastello. "

She moved uneasily, and her beautiful face lost its softness. 

"It is nothing to me, " she answered shortly. 

"It is a pretty festa, and Messer Magagnati should take thee. By ourLady of Castello, there are others who will go!"

"It would be better for the bambino, " he persisted sullenly, as she didnot answer him. His voice was not the pleasanter now that its positivetone was changed to a coaxing one. 

"One is enough, Piero, " she said. "And for the festa of San Pietro inCastello--never, never name it to me!"

"Santa Maria!" her companion ejaculated under his breath; "it is thewomen, the gentle _donzelle_, who are hard!"

He stood, tall, handsome, well-made, swaying lightly with the motion ofthe gondola, which seemed to float as in a dream to the ripple and lapof the water; the blue of his shirt had changed to gray in the twilight, the black cap and sash of the "Nicolotti" accentuated the lines of thestrong, lithe figure as he sprang forward on the sloping foot-rest ofhis gondola with that perfect grace and ease which proved him master ofa craft whose every motion is a harmony. If he were proud of belongingto the Nicolotti, that most powerful faction of the populace, he knewthat they were regarded by the government as the aristocrats of thepeople. 

Marina arranged the child's covering in silence, and stooped her facewistfully to touch his cheek, but she did not turn her head to look atthe man behind her. 

 "L'amor zè fato per chi lo sa fare, "

he sang in the low, slow chant of the familiar folk-song, the rhythmblending perfectly with the movement of the boat in which these two werefaring. His voice was pleasanter in singing, and song is almost aneedful expression of the content of motion in Venice--the necessarycomplement of life to the gondolier, a song might mean nothing more. ButPiero sang more slowly than his wont, charging the words with meaning, yet it did not soften her. 

"Love is for him who knows how to win!"

He could not see how she flushed and paled with anger as he sang, for itwas growing dark over the water and her face was turned from him; butshe straightened herself uncompromisingly, and he was watching withsubtle comprehension. 

He could not have told why he persisted in this strange wooing, forthere had been but one response during the two years of his widowhood, while his child had been Marina's ceaseless care. Marina had loved thebaby the more passionately, perhaps, for the sake of her only sisterToinetta, Piero's child-bride, who had died at the baby's birth, becauseshe was painfully conscious that Toinetta's little flippant life hadneeded much forgiveness and had been crowned with little gladness. Marina was now the only child of Messer Girolamo Magagnati, which was apatent of nobility in Murano; and she was not the less worth winningbecause she held herself aloof from the freer life of the Piazza, whereshe was called the "donzel of Murano, " though there were others withblacker eyes and redder cheeks. Piero did not think her very beautiful;he liked more color and sparkle and quickness of retort--a chance toquarrel and forgive. He was not in sympathy with so many aves, suchcontinual pilgrimages to the cathedral, such brooding over the lives ofthe saints--above all, he did not like being kept in order, and Marinaknew well how to do this, in spite of her quiet ways. But he liked thebest for himself, and there was no one like Marina in all Murano. Duringall this time he had been coming more and more under her sway, changinghis modes of living to suit her whims, and the only way of safety forhim was to marry her and be master; then she should see how he wouldrule his house! His own way had always been the right way for him--rulesof all orders to the contrary--whether he had been a wanderinggondolier, a despised _barcariol toso_, lording it so outrageously overthe established traghetti that they were glad to forgive him his banditcrimes and swear him into membership, if only to stop his influenceagainst them; or whether it had been the stealing away of a promisedbride, as on that memorable day at San Pietro in Castello, when he hadmarried Toinetta--it was never safe to bear "vendetta" with one sostrong and handsome and unprincipled as Piero. 

Gabriele, the jilted lover of Toinetta, over whom Piero had triumphed, soon became the husband of another _donzel_, handsomer than Toinetta hadbeen--poor, foolish Toinetta!--and the retributive tragedy of her littlelife had warmed the sullen Gabriele into a magnanimity that rendered himat least a safe, if a moody and unpleasant, member of the traghetto inwhich Piero had since become a rising star. A man with a home to keepmay not "cast away his chestnuts, " and so when Piero, in that masterfulway of his, swept everything before him in the traghetto--never askingnor caring who stood for him or against him, but carrying his willwhenever he chose to declare it--to set one's self against such a manwas truly a useless sort of fret, only a "gnawing of one's chain, " inthe expressive jargon of the people. 

Piero finished his song, and there was a little pause. They were nearingthe long, low line of Murano. 

"It is not easy, " he said, "when women are in the way, 'to touch the skywith one's finger. '"

She turned with a sudden passionate motion as if she would answer him, and then, struggling for control, turned back without a word, drawingthe child closer and caressing him until she was calm again. When sheraised her head she spoke in a resolute, restrained voice. 

"Since thou wilt have it, Piero--listen. And rest thine oar, for we arealmost home; and to-night must be quite the end of all this talk. It cannever be. Thou hast no understanding of such matters, so I forgive theefor myself. But for Toinetta--I do not think I ever can forgive thee, may the good Madonna help me!"

"There are two in every marriage, " Piero retorted sullenly, for he wasangry now. 

"It is just that--oh, it is just that!" Marina cried, clasping her handspassionately. "Thou art so strong and so compelling, and thou dost notstop for the right of it. She was such a child, she knew no better, poverina! And thou--a man--not for love, nor right, nor any noblething"--the words came with repressed scorn--"to coax her to it, justfor a little triumph! To expose a child to such endless _critica_!"

Only a Venetian of the people could comprehend the full sting of thisword, which conveyed the searching, persistent disapproval of an entireclass, whose code, if viewed from the moral point of view, was painfullyslack, though from its own standard of decorum it was immutable. 

"It has been said, once for all--thou dost not forgive. "

"It is the last time, for this also, Piero; I meant never to speak of itagain, but those words of thine of the festa in San Pietro in Castellomade me forget. It came over me quite suddenly, that this is how thouspendest the beautiful, great strength God gave thee to make a leader ofthee in real things. But whether it be great or small, or good or ill, thou always wilt have thy way!"

"It's a poor fool of a fellow that wouldn't keep himself uppermost, likeoil, " he cried, hesitating only for a moment between anger andgratification, and choosing the way that ministered to his pride. "SantaMaria! I'll butter thy macaroni with fine cheese every time!"

"Nay, spare thy pains, Piero, and be serious for one moment. There is no_barcariol_ in all Venice who hath greater opportunities, but thou mustuse them well. They spoil thee at the traghetto; and if a man hath hiswill always, it will either spoil him or make him noble. "

"What wouldst thou have me to do?" he questioned sullenly. 

"They would be afraid of thee--thou couldst quiet these troubles in thetraghetti--thou must use thy strength and thy will for the good of thepeople. It is terrible to have power and to use it wrongly. "

Piero moved back to his place again and took up his oar, throwinghimself in position for a forward stroke. "Forget not, " he said, poising, "that I need not listen to thee if I do not choose. I may notstay _in casa_ Magagnati--not any more, if thou art always scolding. "

"I shall scold--always--until thou dost quiet this disorder of thetraghetti, " she answered, undaunted. 

"And thou wilt return; for there is always the bambino. "

"If I come back, " he said in a softer tone, responding to the appeal forhis child, "I must speak of what I will. "

"Of all but one thing, Piero;" for it was not possible to misunderstandhim, and she was resolute. "If this is not the end I shall speak with myfather--and the bambino----"

They were both silent. He knew that no one could ever care for hisinvalid child as she had done; and all that he owed her and mustcontinue to owe her restrained him under her chiding, for the baby couldnot live away from her. Sometimes, too, there were moments of strangetenderness within him for this helpless, suffering morsel of humanitythat called him "babbo!" He did not know what might happen if the wrathof the redoubtable Magagnati were to be invoked against him, for thisquarrel could not be disposed of as those small matters with thegondoliers had invariably been. So far from threatening this before, Marina had hitherto shielded Piero, in her unanswerable way, fromeverything that might hasten the rupture that seemed always impendingbetween these two dissimilar natures; and Messer Magagnati had twothoughts only, his daughter and his _stabilimento_--the great glassfurnaces which were the pride of Venice. 

Piero had no suspicion that Marina always touched the best that was inhim; he thought she made him weaker, and it was not easy to yield thepoint that had become a habit. No one else had ever moved him from anypurpose, but now he perceived that there would be no reversal of thatsentence--that he should continue to come to see his child, and that hemust continue to submit to Marina's influence. It was she who had, insome unaccountable way, persuaded him out of his unlawful trade of_barcariol toso_, and had forced his reluctant acceptance of theovertures that were made to him from the Guild of Santa Maria Zobenigo, where he had risen to be one of the _bancali_ or governors, hisqualities of force and daring making him useful in this age whenlawlessness was on the increase. He was beginning to feel a sense ofsatisfaction, not all barbaric, in the position he had won among men whohad some views of order, and to perceive that there might be a lawfuluse, almost as pleasant, for those very attributes which had renderedhim so formidable a foe outside the pale of traghetto civilization. 

"_Ecco_!" he announced, with a slow, sullen emphasis which declared hisunwilling surrender, while he plied his oar with quick, wrathfulstrokes. "It will take more than aves to make a saint of thee! And thoumayst hold thy head too high, looking for better than wheaten bread! ButI'm not the man to wear a curb, nor to put up with thorns where I lookedfor roses! Thou hast no right to mind what chances to me--yet thou hastmade me give up the old life. "

"Because I knew thou couldst do better. See where thou standest to-day!It is not a little thing to be a governor of the Nicolotti!"

"It is a truth, " Piero confessed, "upside down, and not to boast of, for whoever tries it would wish it less. The bancali are 'like asses whocarry wine and drink water, ' for the good of the clouts, in days likethese. "

"I heard them talking to-day, Piero. The _barcarioli tosi_ are worsethan Turks; one must pay, to suit their whim, in the middle of the CanalGrande, or one may wait long for the landing! And there was a scandalabout a friar of San Zanipolo, of whom they had asked a fare for thecrossing; I know not the truth of it! And at Santa Sofia the great crosswith the beautiful golden lustre is gone, and one says it is the'tosi. '"

Piero winced, for, to an ancient "toso, " or even to a "bancalo" ofto-day, such enormities had not the exciting novelty that might havebeen expected, and Marina had a curious habit of seeming entirely toforget his past when she wished to exact his best of him. 

"And Gabriele--"

"Fash not thyself for a man of his measure, that is fitter to 'beat thefishes' like a galley-slave than to serve an honest gondola!" Pierointerrupted scornfully. 

"But Piero, Gabriele hath sold his license to one worse than he, andthere was great talk of quarrels along the Riva, and how that yesterdaythey sent for Padre Gervasio from San Gregorio to bring the Host toquiet them. "

"Ah, the Castellani!" said Piero, with the contempt that was alwaysready for any mention of this great rival faction of the people whosedivision into one or other of these factions was absolute. 

"But the Nicolotti have their scandal also, " Marina asserted, uncompromisingly; "among themselves it is told they break the laws likemen not bound by vows! Some say there will be an appeal to theConsiglio. "

"Nay, " said Piero, with an ominous frown; "the _bancali_ and _gastaldi_are enough; we need no bossing by crimson robes. "

This question of the traghetti and their abuses had lately grown tolarge proportions among the people, and it possessed a deep interest forall classes quite apart from the antiquity and picturesqueness of thesehonorable institutions of the Republic--since all must use the ferriesand wish for safety in their water-streets. For centuries theseconfraternities of gondoliers who presided over the ferries, ortraghetti, of Venice had been corporations, self-governing, withofficers and endowments recognized by the Republic, and with a standardof gondolier morals admirably defined in their codes--those "Mariegole"which were luxuriously bound and printed, with capitals of vermilion, apage here and there glowing like an illuminated missal with the legendof the patron saint of the traghetto, wherein one might read suchadmonitions as would make all men wiser. 

But of late there had been much unruliness among the younger members ofthe traghetti, and a growing inability among their officers to cope withincreasing difficulties, because of these barcarioli tosi, who lived inopen rebellion against this goodly system of law, poaching upon thedearly bought rights of the traghetto gondoliers, yet escaping alltaxes. And because of the abuses which had been gradually underminingthe fair reputation of the established orders of the traghetti, theRepublic, by slow encroachments upon ancient concessions, was surelyreducing their wealth and independence. 

"Santa Maria!" Piero ejaculated after a pause, during which his wrathhad been growing. "The Consiglio hath its own matters for ruling; thetraghetti belong to the people!"

They had reached the little landing of the first long waterway ofMurano, where one of the low arcaded houses, with its slender shafts ofred Verona marble, was the dwelling of Girolamo Magagnati; the others ofthis little block of three were used as show-rooms and offices for thegreat establishment which was connected with them, in the rear, by smallcourtyards; and the dense smoke of the glass factories always restedover them, although this was the quarter of the aristocrats of Murano. 

The buildings looked low and modest if measured by the palaces of thegreater city, and their massive marble door- and window-frames increasedthe impression of gloom. But here and there a portal more ornate, withtreble-twisted cords deeply carved, or a window of fourteenth centuryworkmanship relieved the severity of the lines; while in this shortarcade, where the houses rose but a storey in height above the squarepillars which supported the overhanging fronts, these unexpected columnsof rosy marble, delicate and unique, on which the windows seemed torest, gave singular distinction to these dwellings. 

Often the people passing in gondola or bark glanced carelessly into thedepth of the open window space framed between those polished marbleshafts, for the familiar vision of a wonderful young face, beautiful asa Madonna from some high altar in Venice; often, too, this vision of amaiden bent above a child, with rare golden hair and great eyes full ofpain. 

There was a little lingering on the landing as they left the gondola;for the baby, waking from his long, refreshing sleep, had claimed hisshare of petting before the great dark man who tossed him so restfullyin his strong arms went away. There was no one who could make the littleZuane laugh like "babbo, " though the tremulous, treble echo of the fulltones of the gondolier had a pathos for those who listened. 

III

The little Zuane had eaten his supper of _polenta_ and, in the paintedcradle which his grandfather Girolamo had bought for him from under thearcades of the Piazetta, lay at last asleep, consigned to the care ofall those saints and guardian angels who make the little ones theircharge, and who smiled down upon him from the golden aureoles and cloudsof rose and blue on the cradle-roof while, slowly balancing, it charmedhim into dreams. 

And now, at her window, Marina had the night and the stars to herself, over the still lagoon and down in its mirroring depths. 

It was a sad little tale soon told, this tragedy of Toinetta which hadseemed so great to the dwellers in that home three years ago. A pretty, wilful child of fifteen, who had grown up impatient of all needful homerestraint, finding rebellion easier because there was no mother tocontrol her--with a love of motion, color, sunshine, sound, and laughterthat made her an Ariel of Venice, as full of frolic as a kitten and asirresponsible, choosing in her latest caprice one from the many loverswho were ready for the wooing with the seriousness with which she wouldhave chosen a partner for a festa, since to-morrow, if something elseseemed better, this lover also could be changed. But the opposition ofthe grave father and sister made their consent the better worth winning, and set the youthful Gabriele in a more attractive light. So thebetrothal had been duly made in the presence of the numerous circle offriends and relatives who stand as witnesses at a betrothal feast inthis City of the Sea, and who were as ready with their smiles and theirfelicitations for any event in the home life of the quarter, as theywould be withering in their criticism should there be any failure ofcomplete fulfilment of those traditional observances which areimperative in Venice. Thus the boy and girl were _spoza_ and _novizio_, waiting the fuller bond in all that pretty interchange of tokens sofaithfully prescribed in Venetian circles of every degree; but theperiod had been one of quarrels and forgivenesses, of fallings away fromand returns to favor, as might have been expected from two capricious, foolish children. 

To make part of the pretty pageant of the "Brides of Venice, " which tookplace on Lady Day in San Pietro in Castello, the maidens, all in whitewith floating hair, their dower-boxes fastened by ribbons from theirshoulders, had seemed to Toinetta, as she stood each year an onlooker inthe admiring crowd, a happiness devoutly to be desired. The custom was asurvival of an earlier time, fast losing favor with the better classesof the people; but to Toinetta its dramatic possibilities held a greaterfascination than the more sober ceremonial of the usual wedding service, and, all persuasion to the contrary, when the procession gathered inSan Pietro in Castello, Toinetta, with flushed cheeks and sparklingeyes, was one of the twelve maidens. Marina looked on with offendedeyes; her father consenting, yet only half-convinced, atoning for thislessening of the family dignity by the elegance of the feast he hadprovided, and all permitted bravery in the gondolas that were waiting totake them thence. 

The ups and downs of her childish courtship had culminated in more tearsand jealousies than usual on the previous day, but these were secretsbetween the lovers, and quite unguessed by father or sister. But whenthe wedding oration had been preached over those twelve bridal pairs, and the wedding benediction had been granted, it was _not_ Gabriele, theboyish betrothed of Toinetta, who brought the blushing bride, partly intriumph and partly in pique, to her father's side, but Piero Salin, thehandsomest gondolier on the lagoons, the most daring and dreaded foe ofall the established traghetti. It had been impossible for the spectatorsfrom the body of the church to follow closely the movements of thetwelve white-robed maidens with their attendant swains while theceremony was progressing in the dim recesses of the choir, and thesurprise and dishonor this unexpected _dénouement_ brought upon the homewere nothing to the unhappiness in store for the childish bride, whoselatest and wildest freak brought neither wisdom for self-discipline norpower to endure that relentless criticism which ceased only when alittle one lay in the place of the child-mother, who had been too weakto cope with the worries of the year that had followed upon thatunhappy day in San Pietro. 

The jilted Gabriele had accepted the situation with a parade ofphilosophical scorn which removed him beyond the pale of the sympathyMarina would have offered him; and Marina--whose exquisite sense oftruth, decorum, and duty had been outraged to a degree beyond Toinetta'scomprehension--forgot it all in the overwhelming compassion with whichshe took her little sister in her arms and tried to help her live herdifficult life; she realized, as only a large nature could, that lovewas the only hope for this emergency, and, feeding on her measurelesscompassion, love, the diviner faculty, grew to be a power. 

Slowly and very dimly she had helped the young wife to some vaguecomprehension of the duties she had so rashly assumed. Hitherto, forToinetta, there had been no difficulties, and now there were so many shewas frightened and did not understand; now, when Piero scolded at hertears or temper she could not run away nor change him for a pleasantercompanion, and she knew no other way to manage such a difficulty; andthere was no pleasure in the Piazza because of that eternal critica. There was triumph still in a _canalazzo_, for Piero was so handsome andso strong, and in the gondola, on the Canal Grande, one could not hearthe talking--besides, Venice was not Murano; but in the home the oldfriends came no more, and life was very sad--quite other than it used tobe!

Even her father, who traced the disgrace that had come upon his house tohis over-indulgence, was now proportionately severe, and to his sternsense of honor the lawless son-in-law was a most unwelcome guest. Through that slow year of Toinetta's life Marina was the veritable angelin the house, not conscious of any self-sacrifice, but only of livingintensely, making the living under the same roof possible for these twostrong men who looked at life from such different standpoints, soothingthe wounded pride of her father by her perfect sympathy while strivingto rouse Piero to nobler ideals. 

And now that it was all over--was it all over?--there lay the poorlittle Zuane; and Piero, over the water at his traghetto, was a greatcare. But he should do his best yet for the people!

A deep voice with a ring of wistfulness came through the darkness:

"Doth he not sleep yet, the little Zuane? The evening hath been long, and I have somewhat to show thee. "

"I come, my father, " she answered very tenderly, as she followed himthrough the narrow, dark corridor, into a large chamber which served asa private office, but where the father and daughter often sat alone inthe evening; for here Girolamo kept many designs and papers relating tohis work, and they often discussed his plans together. 

He unlocked an old carved cabinet and brought out a roll of parchments, spreading them upon the table and explaining: "I could not leave themwhile I went to call thee, for it is an order from the Senate--thousee'st the seal--and a copy of the letter of the Ambassador of theRepublic to the Levant, with this folded therein--truly a curious schemeof color, but very rich, and the lines are somewhat uneven. Whatthinkest thou of the design?"

"The outline is good, " she answered, after a careful scrutiny, for shehad been trained in copying his best designs. This was a patternfurnished by the grand vizier of the sultan for a mosque lamp of apeculiar shape, wrought over with verses from the Koran, in variouscolored enamels. "The outline is well; but the colors--mayst thou notchange this yellow? there is too much of it. "

"Nay, for the colors have a meaning; methinks this yellow is theirsacred color. But the texts are fine; the broken lines of the charactershave a charm, and the scrolls relieve the surface, making semblance ofshadow. Yet I will make thee a prettier one for thine own chamber, withsome thought of thy choosing. "

She looked up at him with shining eyes; their trouble, combated andborne together, had brought them very near to one another. 

"I have often wished for a lamp with the colors soft like moonlight; andthe design shall be of thine own hand, and the verse upon it shall be anave, and in it there shall be always a light. It shall be a prayer forthe little one!" she said in quick response. "The Senate wished thee tomake a lamp of this design? I have seen none like it. "

"Nay, not one; there will be nine hundred, for the decoration of amosque, " and Girolamo's eyes sparkled with triumph. "It is not that itis difficult, " he explained, for Marina's eyes wandered from herfather's face to the design with some astonishment. "It is even simplefor us. But when the Levant sends to Venice for these sacred lamps forher own temples it is her acknowledgment that we have surpassed ourteachers. It is a glory for us!"

"Father, I thought the glass of Venice was even all our own!" Marinaexclaimed in a tone of disappointment. "I knew not that our art had comefrom the East to us. Some say that it was born here. "

"Ay, some; but thou shouldst know the story of thy Venice better, mydaughter, " Girolamo answered gravely, for to him every detail connectedwith his art was of vital import. "There may be some who say this, butnot thou. In the time of Orseolo the mosaics were brought from theLevant for our old San Marco. Thus came the knowledge to us in thoseearly days. But now there is no longer any country that shares itequally with Venice, for elsewhere they know not the art in itsfineness. These, when they are finished, shall be sent as a gift fromthe Republic; it is so written in this order from the Senate. "

"When came it to thee?"

"To-day, with much ceremony, it was delivered into mine own hand by oneof the Secretaries of the Ten. For, see'st thou, Marina, it is a mark ofrare favor that they have trusted this parchment with me, and have notbrought me into their presence to make copy of it in the palace. If thoucouldst lend me thy deft fingers----"

"Surely, " she answered, smiling up at him. 

He was standing over her with one hand on her shoulder; he rested theother lightly on her hair, looking down into her eyes for a moment witha caress still and tender, after his own grave fashion. "It will besafer so, " he said, folding the parchment and the letters carefully andlocking them away in his cabinet. "And to-morrow, Marina--for they havegranted me but one day. "

The chamber in which they sat was wainscoted with heavy carved woodworkstained black, and every panel was a drawer with a curiously wroughtlock, containing some design or some order for the house of Magagnati;and these archives were precious not only for the stabilimento andGirolamo the master, but they would be treasured by the Republic asstate papers, representing the highest attainment in this exquisiteVenetian industry, which the Government held in such esteem that for acentury past one of the chiefs of the Council of Ten had been appointedas inspector and supervisor of the manufactories. For further securitythe Senate had declared severest penalties against any betrayal of thesecrets of the trade--a form of protection not quite needless, since theAmbassador of His Most Christian Majesty had formed a species of secretpolice with no other object than to bribe the glass-makers and extractfrom them the lucrative secret which formed no part of the courtesiesthat were interchanged between France and the Republic. 

The large, low table, black and polished like teak-wood, upon which theyhad been examining the vizier's design, was lighted by a lamp of wroughtiron swinging low by fanciful chains from the high ceiling, making acentre of dense yellow flame from which the shadows rayed off into thegloom of the farther portions of the room, and a charming picture offather and daughter was outlined against the vague darkness. Anotherlamp, fixed against a plate of burnished brass, cast a reflection thatwas almost brilliant upon the glory of this chamber--a high, centralcabinet of the same dark, carved framework, with a back of thosewonderful mirror plates so recently brought to perfection by anotherstabilimento of which the good Girolamo was almost jealous, althoughagainst this luminous background the exquisite fabrications of the houseof Magagnati reflected their wonderful shapes and colors in increasedbeauty. 

Not yet had any plates of clear glass fine enough for the display ofsuch a cabinet been realized, though it sometimes seemed to Girolamothat such a time was very near; but the solid doors of wood, withponderous brass locks and hinges, stood open, and the inner silk curtainwhich protected these treasures from dust was always drawn aside byMarina's own hand when these evening lamps were lighted; they were sobeautiful to see, if they but raised their eyes; the very consciousnessof their gleaming was sometimes an inspiration to Girolamo, and at thishour they were quite safe, for the working day was over, and no oneentered this sanctum save by invitation. 

Girolamo Magagnati prided himself on being a Venetian of the people, andit was true that no member of his family had ever sat in the Consiglio;but in few of the patrician homes of Venice could more of what was thencounted among the comforts of life have been found than in this lesssumptuous house of Murano, while its luxuries were all such as centeredabout his art. He was one of the magnates of his island, for hisfurnaces were among the most famous of Murano, and to him belongedsecrets of the craft in his special field to which no others had yetattained, while in a degree that would scarcely have been esteemed bythe merchant princes of Venice, who sat in the Consiglio, they hadbrought him wealth and repute. But to him, whose heart was in his work, it was power and glory that sufficed. No stranger whom it was desired tohonor came to Venice but was conducted, with a ceremony that wasflattering, while it was also a due precaution against too curiousquestioning, through the show-rooms of the factories of Murano; andoften in this chamber had gathered a group of men whom the world calledgreat, led by that special Chief of the Ten who was then in power atMurano, to see the treasures of this cabinet of which Girolamo wasjustly proud. 

This first bit of the wonderful coloring which glowed and flashed whenthe light shot through it, as if some living fire were caught in itsheart; or that curious, tortured shape, with its dragon-eyes of jewels, and its tongue forever thrusting at you some secret which it almostutters, yet withholds; this fragment of tenderest opalescence which isof no color, yet blending all, as if a shower of petals were blownacross a rainbow in spring; that one--frosted in silver and gold--pink, with the yellow sunshine in its core; here the aquamarine, lucent asVenice's own sea! And here, throned in regal state, in its quaint caseof faded azure velvet, is that very masterpiece of the glass-workers ofMurano which was carried in the first solemn procession of all the artsat a Doge's triumph in the thirteenth century. Its very possession was apatent of nobility in Girolamo's reverent esteem; and the most graciousletter of the Senate, conferring upon this piece of glass thedistinction of first mention among all that were shown upon that day oftriumph, is here also--a yellowed parchment, carefully inclosed in thelittle morocco case, securely screwed to the shelf beneath, and Marinahad been present when it was opened for some rare visitor. It was arelic of those earlier days when there were no furnaces in Murano, though many of the finest workers came from this island and belonged tothe corporation of the workers on Rialto, and it was almost aprehistoric record of greatness. 

Marina had left the table and gone to the cabinet; her father followedher. "This I would show thee, " he said, calling her attention to awhimsical shape, blown and twisted almost into foam. "This Lorenzo Stinobrought me only yesterday; he is full of genius; I think none hath aquicker hand, nor a more inventive faculty. I have watched him in hisworking. " He scanned her eagerly as he spoke. 

"Yes, it is fanciful--wonderful, " she added to please him, but withoutwarmth, while her eyes wandered over the shelves. "Oh, father, here aresome of the very mosaics that were made for San Marco; thou hastforgotten!"

She lifted eagerly a small opaque basin of turquoise blue and held ittoward him; it contained a few bits of gold and silver enamel, theearliest that had been made in Venice, bearing their ancient date. 

"Thou askest more of Venice than I, " he said, well pleased with herenthusiasm; "but have a care lest they say I have not taught thee well, or that I do not know my art, or that I claim too much. At the time ofthe burning of San Marco these Mosaics for the restoration were from thestabilimenti of the Republic on Rialto--so early it came to us, thisglorious art. And it was one Piero, a founder of our house, though thename was other than Magagnati, who was the master in that restoration. But the first mosaics in that old San Marco--ay, and the workmen, " headded with a conscious effort, so much would he have liked to claim theinvention for Venice, "came hither from the East. Thou shouldst know thehistory of our art; it is the story of thine ancestry and the nobilityof thy house. Thou hast no other. "

"I have thee, my father!"

IV

The Veronese did not paint that beautiful face the next morning as hehad planned; for the first time he had encountered difficulties. Slowly, as he wended his way through the many turnings of the narrow calle toCampo San Maurizio, carrying a beautiful Moorish box filled with thepearly shells which the Venetians call "flowers of the Lido, " and abouquet of aromatic carnations for the bambino, he recalled the figureand speech of his Madonna, and they were not those of the maidens whomone might encounter at the traghetto or in the Piazza; there had been adignity and self-forgetfulness in such perfect harmony with the facethat, at the moment, this had seemed entirely natural. But the tonesreturned to him as he pondered, filled with a deeper melody than theusual winning speech of the Venetian; with the grace of the soft dialectthere was a rare, unexpected quality, as if thought had formed theundertone. He had never heard such a voice in the Piazza--it was rareeven in the palazzo; it was the voice of some sweet and gracious womanwith a soul too large for the world; it held a suggestion of peace andconvent bells and even-songs of nuns. 

Then, still more passionately, the desire overcame him to paint thatface for his Madonna; he would never give it up! Yet this maiden wasnot one of whom he could ask the favor that he craved, nor to whom hecould offer any return. 

He had come to San Maurizio to take a gondola from the traghetto, partlythat he might be free to wander without comment wherever his searchshould lead, partly because he was always ready for a chat with thepeople; their experiences interested him, and he himself belonged by hisartist life, as by his sympathies, to all classes. Perhaps, too, he hadbeen moved with a vague hope that he might find the face he was seeking, for he was used to fortunate happenings. But there were no waitingMadonnas under the pergola, and the air of the early spring morning blewchill from the Lido, almost with an intimation of failure to hissensitive mood. He pushed aside an old _gransiere_, without the gift ofsmall coin that usually flowed so easily from his hand, for servicerendered or unrendered, as he impatiently questioned the gondoliers. 

"One who knows Murano well!" he called. 

There was an instant response from an old man almost past traghettoservice, but his age and probable garrulity commended him. 

"I will take thee and thy gondola, since thou knowest Murano, " said theartist kindly; "but I must go swiftly, and I would not tax thee. Thoushalt have thy fare, but I will pay for another gondolier also from thetraghetto; he must be young and lusty. Choose thou him--and hasten. "

There was a babel of voices and a self-gratulatory proffer of litheforms, while the old gondolier turned undecidedly from one to another, and the tottering gransiere ostentatiously protected the velvet mantleof the artist as he sprang into the boat. With an impatient gesture theVeronese indicated his choice, and they were soon on their way. 

"Come hither, _vecchio mio_, and rest thine old bones; let the young onework for us both, " the padrone commanded, as he flung himself down amongthe cushions. "Do they treat thee well at thy traghetto?"

"Eccellenza, yes; but I am scarce older than the others; it is the youngones who make us trouble; they keep not the Mariegole, and it is onlythe old one may depend upon. "

"_Davvero_, the world is changed then! It used to be good to be young. "

"Eccellenza, yes; when I myself was not old, and his excellency also hadno beard. "

"If age and wisdom might be traded for the time of youthful pranks, "said the Veronese with twinkling eyes, "I doubt if there were wisdomenough left in Venice to cavil at the barter! Yet thou and I, havingwisdom thrust upon us by these same beards, if trouble come to thee, ortoo soon they put thee at the gransiere service, we will remember thisday passed together. "

"Eccellenza, thanks; the gransiere has not much beside his beard to keephim warm, and the time draws near, " the old man answered with pleasantVenetian insouciance. 

"Tell me, " said the Veronese, turning to the younger man, "why do youyoung fellows make Venice ring with your scandals? You are cutting offyour own 'liberties. '"

"Yes, signore. " The gondolier hesitated, glancing doubtfully at theartist's sumptuous attire, which might have indicated a state muchgreater than he kept; for the Veronese was famed throughout Venice, inquarters where he was better known, for an unfailing splendor of costumewhich would have made him at all times a model for the pictures he lovedto paint. Recently, for bad conduct, the gondoliers had been graduallyforfeiting their licenses, or "liberties, " as they were called inVenice, and the thought crossed the young fellow's mind that thissplendid stranger was possibly one of those government officials whowere charged with the supervision of the confraternities of thetraghetti. 

"It is the first time I have the honor of conducting his Excellency; heis perhaps of the Provveditori al Comun?" These officials collected thegovernment taxes and were viewed with jealous eyes by the gondoliers. 

"Nay; I am Paolo Cagliari; I belong to a better craft. But pleasethyself, for there is much talk of this matter. "

"Signore, one must live!" the young fellow exclaimed, with a friendlyshrug of his shoulders and a gleam of his white teeth; for it was easyto make friends with the genial artist. "And between the governors andthe _provveditori_ one may scarce draw breath! One's bread and onions--"he added, with a dramatic gesture of self-pity. "It is not much to ask!"

"_Altro_! Nonsense!" the Veronese exclaimed, laughing, for the gondolierlooked little like one who was suffering from hunger, as he stoodswaying in keen enjoyment of the motion which showed his prowess, of thewind as it swept his bronzed cheek, of the talk which permitted him toexploit his grievances. 

"There is the High Mass, twice in the month; there is the LowMass--every Monday, if you will believe me! There are the priests, _fornothing_--Santa Maria, they are not few! The first fare in theday?--always for the Madonna of the traghetto. This _maledetto_ fare ofthe Madonna suffices for the Madonna's oil, I ask you? Ebbene non! Thereare the fines--and these, it must be confessed, might be fewer, for thesaints are tired of keeping us out of mischief. And little there is forone's own madonna, if one would make gifts!"

"This, then, for thine own madonna, " said the artist pleasantly, tossinghim a considerable coin. "And may she make thee wiser; for, by thineinventory, which it doth not harm thee to rehearse, thou hast a goodmemory. "

"Eccellenza, there is more, if you be not weary. There is the governmenttax; it takes long to gather--ask the _gastaldo_! There are the soldiersfor the navy; how many good men does that leave for the traghettoservice? And a license is not little to buy for a poor barcariol whowould be his own man; one pays three hundred _lire_--not less. Does itdrop into one's hand with the first fare? One must belong to theGuilds--it is less robbery!"

"But for your gastaldo, your great man, for him it is much honor--"

"Eccellenza, believe it not. If the taxes are not there for theprovveditori, it is the gastaldo who pays. When the money is little itis the gastaldo who pays much. And the toso--all his faults blamed onthe traghetti! Ah, signore, for the gondolier it is a life--SantaMaria!" He threw up his hands with a feint of being at a loss to conveyits hardships. 

"_Come non c'è altro_!" said the Veronese, laughing; "there is none likeit. "

"Ebbene--va bene!" the gondolier confessed, joining heartily in themerriment, his grievance, which was nevertheless a real one, infinitelylessened by confession. 

Suddenly the old man rose and bowed his head, and both gondolierscrossed themselves. The Veronese also bared his head and made the signof reverence, for they were passing the island of San Michele, towardwhich a mournful procession of boats, each with its torch and its bannerof black, was slowly gliding, while back over the water echoed the dirgefrom those sobbing cellos. Here, where only the dead were sleeping, thesky was as blue and the sea as calm as if sorrow had never been born inthe world. 

Before them Murano, low-lying, scattered, was close at hand, the smokeof its daily activities tremulous over it, dimming the beauty of sky andsea. 

"His Excellency knows Murano? The Duomo, with its mosaics? Wonderful!there are none like them; and it is old--'ma antica'! And thestabilimenti?--it is glory enough for one island! Ah, the padrone wishesto visit the stabilimento Magagnati?"

Paolo Cagliari had not known what he would do until the old man'ssuggestion seemed to make his vision less vaguely inaccessible, andbefore they reached the landing he had learned, by a judiciousindifference which sharpened his companion's loquacity, that MesserGirolamo lived there alone with his daughter, who went about always witha bambino in her arms--the child of a dead sister. 

There could be no doubt; yet, to keep the old man talking, he put thequestion, "She is very beautiful, the donzella?"

"Eccellenza"--with a pause and deprecatory movement of theshoulders--"_cosi_--so-so--a little pale--like a saint--devote. For thepoor? Good, _gentile_, the donzel of Messer Girolamo. _Bella_, with rosycolors? _Non_!"

With the Venetians there could be no sharp distinction between thedecorative and the fine arts, as the fine arts were employed by themwithout limit in their sumptuous decorations; and that which elsewherewould have been merely decorative they raised, by exquisite quality andfinish, to a point which deserved to be termed art, withoutqualifications. 

The Veronese, who had been knighted by the Doge, could scarcely gounrecognized to any art establishment in any quarter of Venice, and withunconcealed pleasure Girolamo bowed low before this master who had cometo do him honor; displaying all that the initiated would hold mostprecious among his treasures--that design, faded and dim, almostunrecognizable, of those early mosaics of the Master Pietro--he heldnothing back. It was a day of honor for his house, and the two werealone in his cabinet. 

The Veronese had a gift of sympathy; his heart opened to those who lovedart and had conquered difficulties in her service, and the talk flowedfreely. "I believe, " he said, as together they laid away the parchment, "that in our modern mosaics we should keep to the massive lines of theseearlier models--greater dignity and simplicity in outline and coloring. It is a mistake to attempt to confound this art with painting. "

"It is good, then, for our art, Messer Cavalière, that at San Donato, our mother church, we workmen of Murano have our Lady in that oldByzantine type; there is none earlier--nor in all Venice more perfect ofits time--and the setting is of marvelous richness and delicacy. "

"It is most interesting, " said the Veronese. "Sometimes a question hascome to me, if an artist cannot do the _all_, is he most the artist whostops below his limitation or beyond it? A question of the earlier hint, or the later realization. "

"Between the mosaic and the painting, perhaps?" Girolamo questioned, greatly interested. 

"Nay, not between the arts, but of that which is possible to each. It isnot a Venetian question. Here all is warmth, color, beauty, joy; hereart is the expression of redundancy--it hath lost its symbolism. "

"I know only Venice--the Greek and the Venetian types. But I have heardthat the Michelangelo was in himself a type?"

"He was a prophet, " the Veronese answered reverently, "like the greatFlorentine--a seer of visions; but at Rome only one understands why hewas born. He was a maker, creating mighty meanings under formlessness. His great shapes seem each a mystery, wrestling with a message. "

"I had thought there was none who equaled him in form--that he was evenas a sculptor in his painting. "

"And it was even so. When I spake of 'formlessness' it was not the less, but the more; as if, _before the visions had taken mortal shape, he, being greater than men, saw them as spirits_. "

"Never before have I talked with one who knew this master, " saidGirolamo, "and it is a feast. "

"Nay, I knew him not, for it was not easy to get speech with him, nor afavor a young man might crave. But once I saw him at his work in SanPietro, where he wrought most furiously and would take no payment--'forthe good of his soul, ' he said, that he might end his life with a piouswork. The night was coming on, and already his candle was fastened tohis hat, that he might lose no time. They had brought him a little breadand wine for his evening meal, for often he went not home when the moodof work possessed him; and beside him was a writing of the manSavonarola--this and the Holy Evangel and the 'Inferno' fashioned histhoughts. He lived not long after that, for we were still in Rome whenthey made for him that great funeral in Santa Croce of Florence, therumor of which is dear to artist hearts. He was great and lonely, and heknew no joy; there hath been none like him. "

"And the Tintoretto, at Santa Maria dell' Orto?"

"He, too, is a _furioso_, wonderful in form--and the Michelangelo hadnot the coloring of our Jacopo. But the terror of the Tintoretto is veryterrible and very human. The Michelangelo fills a great gloom withphantasms--they question--and one cannot escape. "

"It hath been a morning of delights, " Girolamo said with grave courtesywhen the talk had come to an end. "I thank the master for this honor. "

"Nay, " answered the knightly Veronese; "it is I who have received. Andmore, yet more would I ask. I know not if in this chamber of treasures Imay leave the trifle which I came to bring for the bambino?" he addedwith hesitation, as he placed upon the table his little inlaid box ofbaubles and his bunch of spicy flowers. "Yet it was a promise. "

And while Girolamo listened in astonishment he told abruptly the storyof his meeting with Marina and the little one, unconsciously weaving histhoughts into such a picture as he talked, that Girolamo recognized theinspiration and was already won to plead his cause. 

"This, " continued the artist, unfolding a letter, "is the order whichhath been sent me by Fra Paolo Sarpi, of the convent of the Servi, a manmost wise and of high repute in Venice. 'The face, ' this learned friarsayeth, 'must be full of consolation and one to awaken holy thoughts. And I, being not an artist' (which, because he is greater than so manyof his craft, he hath the grace to acknowledge!), 'have no other word tosay, save that it shall be noble and most spiritual, as befitteth ourreligion. ' And such a face till now, Messer Girolamo Magagnati--sobeautiful and holy--I have not found. But now it is a vision sent to mefrom heaven, quite other than any picture I have ever dreamed, and Iwill paint no other for this Madonna of the Servi. I also, like theAngelo, would give my holiest work for the good of my soul; for the daysof man are numbered, though his blood be warm in his veins like wine! Itwould be a pious act for the maiden; and if she will most graciouslyconsent, the picture shall be an offering for the altar of the chapel ofConsolation in the Servi. "

"I will ask her, " said the father simply, and felt no surprise at whathe had granted when he was left alone with his thoughts, for PaoloCagliari, because of a way he had that men could not resist, alreadyseemed to him a friend; for the rare mingling of knightly grace andartistic enthusiasm, overcoming spasmodically the usual assertiveness ofhis demeanor, seemed at such moments to mean more than when assumed bythose who were never passionate nor brusque, and his very incongruitiesheld a fascination for his friends. 

V

Marina came often to the studio of the Veronese in San Samuele, whilethe _Madonna del Sorriso_ grew slowly into life; it was not that mostperfect life of which the artist had dreamed, for hitherto beauty hadsufficed to him and he had never sought to burden his creations withquestions of the soul; but now the sadness of the unattainable that wasgrowing within him looked out of the wonderful eyes of the maiden on hiscanvas, yet he tossed his brushes aside in discontent. "Her smileeludeth me, though it hath the candor of a child's, " the master cried. 

Within his studio his pupils came and went, some earnest to follow inthe footsteps of the master, absorbed in their tasks; others, goldenyouths, painting a little because Art was beautiful--not overcoming. 

In the inner chamber, which was the artist's sanctum, were only theVeronese and his brother Benedetto at work; his brother, who wasarchitect and sculptor too, was putting in the background of anelaborate palace in a fine Venetian group upon which Paolo worked whennot occupied with his Madonna; and a favorite pupil, the young noblemanMarcantonio Giustiniani, was in attendance upon the master. The lovelygirlish face, of a spiritual type rare in Venice, seemed to the youngpatrician more beautiful than that of any of the noble, smiling ladieswho were waiting to be won by him, and in those hours of blissfulservice he, too, made a study--crude and inartistic. 

"Thy hand hath yet to learn its cunning, " the master said, as in muchconfusion, one morning when they were quite alone, his pupil revealedhis roughly executed head; "yet thou hast painted the soul! The hearthath done it, Signorino mio, for thou art not yet an artist. There is noother lady for Marcantonio Giustiniani; yet she comes not of a noblehouse. "

"She makes it noble!" cried the young fellow, flushing hotly, "for sheis like her face. "

"Ay, for me and thee she is noble, " said the Veronese compassionately, for he loved the boy. "But for the noble Senator, thy father--of theCouncil of the Ten--he will not find this maiden's name in the 'Librod'Oro. ' I am sorry for thee. "

"Master!" cried Marcantonio imploringly, "art thou with me?"

"Verily, but I can do naught for thee. "

"Listen, then! One day the nobles shall find that name inscribed in the'Libro d'Oro'; it shall be there, for mine shall suffice. "

The master answered nothing, but bending over the sketch which his pupilhad made he caressed it, here and there, with loving touches of hismagic brush, while the young nobleman poured forth his vehement speech, forgetting to watch the master's fingers. 

"Once in the annals of the Republic there is noted such a marriage; adaughter of Murano, of the house of Beroviero--nay, not so beautiful asMarina--wedded with one of our noblest names; and the children, bydecree of the Senate, were written every one in the 'Libro d'Oro. '"

"_This_ have I done for thee!" said the master, moving away from thesketch and disclosing it to the young fellow, who gazed at it in silentamazement. "Only the eyes have I not touched, " the Veronese explained;"for thou hast made them more soulful than even unto me they seemed, andthus have I read thy secret. "

"Maestro mio!" cried Marcantonio at length, in ecstasy; "none among usmay learn the marvel of thine art!"

"I have but touched thy sketch with the power that mine art could give, "the master answered, well pleased. "Yet it is thou who hast read thesecret of the face that was not revealed to me. "

"We were speaking of the 'Libro d'Oro, '" the young patrician interruptedeagerly. 

"It may be so, I know not, " the Veronese answered indifferently, for hehimself was not written in that noble chronicle. "My art deals littlewith these cumbrous records of the Republic. "

"Thou art wrong to scorn them, caro maestro, for in them is chronicledthe glory of Venice. "

"The saying doeth honor--from a pupil to his master!" the artist burstforth with his quick, uncontrollable temper. "The Tablets of Stone werereserved for the highest dignity of the Law; and in that Sala dei Capi, where at this moment sits Giustinian Giustiniani--one of the chosenthree of the Council of the Ten--my name is written largely with mineown hand, as artists write their names, _above_ the heads of rulers forall coming time to see! The _Avvogadori_ do not keep my 'Libro d'Oro';the entrance to it is by divine right!"

He flung his brushes fiercely aside, in one of those moods that seemedall unwarranted in comparison with the slightness of theprovocation--moods that alternated with the lovable, genial, generousimpulses of an artist soul, overwhelming in energy and great infriendship; yet jealous, to a degree a lesser nature could scarcelypardon, of anything that seemed to touch upon his province as an artistand the claims of art to highest honor. 

 * * * * *

The day was drawing near when Marcantonio Giustiniani, the only son ofGiustinian Giustiniani, a noble of the Senate and of the Council of theTen, should present himself before the _Avvocato del Comun_ to claimadmission to the Great Council as a noble, born in lawful wedlock, ofnoble parents, inscribed in the Golden Book. 

To the young fellow himself this twenty-fifth anniversary of his birth, when, by Venetian law, the ceremony must take place, approached withneedlessly rapid footsteps; he was not yet ready for the duties it wouldbring, so much more did he incline to that measure of boyish freedomwhich had thus far been his, so unwilling was he to renounce his longingfor some form of art life--the impulse to which fretted him almostunbearably, in view of the political career which opened mercilesslybefore him, threatening every dearer project. 

Not that he felt himself born to be an artist--Paolo Cagliari laughed athis studies while he encouraged his coming to the studio, telling himthat for one who had not chosen Art for his mistress the drawings were"well enough"; and from the Veronese the words were consoling. Hismother had been afraid of this taste for art, which, for a short time, had exercised such sway over his fancy, stimulated by his _culte_ forthe beautiful, that he had plead with her to win his father's consentfor an art life. Yet he had himself acquiesced in her quiet butinflexible showing of the futility of attempting such an overturning ofGiustiniani traditions, though he still went with dangerous frequency tothe studio of the Veronese, to which she had procured him entrance uponhis promise that he would not seriously consider that impossiblepossibility at which he had hinted. There had been mention of Pordenoneand of Aretino, with a certain cool scorn that was worse than censure, and as convincing, there was the Titian, than whom, in art andsumptuousness, one could not be greater; but, even for him, Cavalière ofFrance, there was no place in the Consiglio!

Not that Marcantonio would voluntarily have relinquished his hereditaryplace in the state, his possible part in its glory--the dream which cameto all young noblemen of the portrait in that splendid Sala di Consiglioof his own face grown venerable, wearing the ermine and the ducalcoronet, in token of that supremacy so dear to each Venetian heart, butjealously held by every noble of the Republic within confines whichlessened with each succession, until the crown was assumed in tremblingand ignominious restriction--if with external pomp and honor that mightbefit a king. 

But he wanted time; he wanted liberty to choose his own life or enjoyhis restlessness, and he realized the more keenly, from the sense ofpower that was so chafed in the curbing, that he was too young to beforced into such ruthless service; and he could not but acquiesce theless fervently because it was not open to him to _give_ himself, sincethe claim of Venice was absolute and resistance was a crime. 

But with quite other sentiments the preparations for the fête wereprogressing in that ancient family of Giustiniani, where the day wasawaited with an impatience which increased the fervor and the pomp ofpreparation, but was not otherwise manifested in any sign of undignifiedeagerness. No house in Venice had held this right for more generations;no house was princelier in its bearing, nor more superbly republican! Nomember of that Supreme Council was more esteemed than the sternGiustinian, who had been again and again elected to the most importantmissions of the state; no _donna nobile_ of all the Venetians wasprouder, more highly born, more beautiful, nor more coldly gracious thanthe mother of Marcantonio. 

In such an environment there was but one career possible for the onlyson of the house, who had been carefully trained, according to thetraditions that made culture for the young Venetian of those days; hehad even attended courses of those philosophical conferences which hadbecome the fashion since the sittings of the famous Council of Trent, and which had been conducted in various convents by distinguishedprofessors from Padua and Bologna, and even by some of the learned menof Rome; it was a species of amusement creditable for a youngnobleman--it would quicken the reasoning powers and give more subtletyin debate, when government problems should later absorb his gifts. 

But if, like other golden youth of his time, he was like a Greek inpossession of their liquid tongue and in a mastery of oratory thatfilled the soul of Giustinian Giustiniani with satisfaction, the youngpatrician himself had acquired this learning, less with a thought of oneday shining in the Senate than because it pleased him as a touch offinish. He was, in some sort, a reaction from the proud and typicalVenetian so ably represented by the elder Giustinian, who claimedunchallenged descent from the Emperor Justinian, upheld by thetraditions of that long line of ancestry and by the memory of manyhonorable offices most honorably discharged by numerous members of hishouse. Marcantonio, on the contrary, was handsome, winning, pleasure-loving--after an innocent fashion, which brought some sneersfrom his compeers, the gay "company of the hose;" but he thought lifenot made for pain, nor ugliness, nor hardness of any sort; he was bredto luxury, yet his intellectual inheritance made learning easy for him;he was many sided and vacillating, an exquisite in taste and the scienceof trifles. His affectionate nature, repressed and chilled, refusedabsolute subjection to that purpose which the elder Giustinian heldrelentlessly before him; he wished to live for himself a little, and notwholly for Venice. He was an embodiment of that late time of Venetianculture when its magnificence, its artistic and intellectual developmenthad touched their height, and the hint of decadence shadowed itssplendor with a pathos unguessed except by the thoughtful few. 

He had dabbled a little in costly manuscripts--a taste for an exquisitein those days, when Venice was the envy of the world for the marvels ofher press; and already he possessed a volume or two, for his cabinet, from the atelier of Aldus Manutius--that famous edition of Aristotle, the first ever printed in Greek, with the Aldine mark of anchor anddolphin on the title-page. But a volume more precious still, with itsdainty finish and piquant history, conferred distinction, it was said, among the literati, upon its youthful owner; this was no less a treasurethan that first copy of "Le Cose Volgare di Messer Francesco Petrarca, "most exquisitely printed in type modeled after the poet's own eleganthandwriting, and the volume had been superintended by many learnedheads, --awaited with impatience, as a triumph for its makers, --andthought a thing rare enough to be offered, like a jewel, to the learnedand illustrious lady, Isabella of Mantua. Marcantonio was no pedant, butthese treasures simply had their place in the richly painted cabinet, beside many other bits of exquisite workmanship, because rare things inevery art were beautiful to our dilettante, and possessions of all kindscame to him easily. 

There lay the golden necklace presented by Henry III. Of France to aGiustinian who had been one of the young nobles set apart for thehousehold of the king, when on his visit to Venice; and beside it acurious volume of songs, all in honor of France and of the king, entitled "Il Magno Enrico III. , difensore di Santa Chiesa, di Francia èdi Polonia Re christianissimo. " Here was also preserved that still morecurious allegorical drama which had been given at the grand fête at theDucal Palace in honor of this over-adulated monarch. It was natural thatsome of these literary curiosities, of which the visit of Henry III. Hadbeen prolific, should have remained in possession of the masters of thepalace which had been tendered for his residence. The volume, bound inazure velvet, embroidered with golden fleurs-de-lis and seeded withpearls, lay open at the page "Chapter in which the Most Holy CatholicReligion is introduced conversing with the most Christian, most powerfuland most holy Henry III. , the most glorious King of France and Poland. "

The noble lady Laura Giustiniani, who looked with pride upon thesecostly trifles of the cabinet of Marcantonio, was a Venetian in everythrob of her patrician veins--first a patriot and then a mother--sheearnestly coveted for her son that he should render vast services to thestate, receive in his early years the Patriarch's blessing upon hisalliance with some ancient Venetian house, and close his noble careerwith the Doge's coronet. She admitted reluctantly to herself, althoughshe would never have confessed it openly, that in these latter days ofthe Republic the ermine was not likely to be offered to one so stern andmasterful as her husband; while she also knew, and the knowledge heldits compensation, that Giustinian Giustiniani could not be spared fromthe Councils of his government. She knew her history well, and sherealized that the days of the Michieli and Orseoli were over, and thatthe supreme honor was no longer for the strong but for the pliant; thishad made her the more willing that her son should partake of the facileand gracious mood of this time of Renaissance, and had led her to shapehis education more in consonance with his natural tastes than with herown views of fitness for a Venetian noble. She knew that this wasweakness for a Giustinian; but it was hard to see the noble line passdown through the centuries without that coveted sign of honor--theminikin Lion of San Marco, the mighty symbol--carved upon their palaces. 

Meanwhile, for a suitable alliance there were already schemes on foot, and mothers of noble young Venetian ladies paid frequent court to thestately Lady Laura in her palace on the Canal Grande; and fathers, inthe Senate, in moments of unbending, discussed the probability of theimmediate rise of the young Giustinian upon his admission to theConsiglio--he was competent and not positive, gracious and no fool, hecould be made to see the wisdom of other people's opinions, which, withthe elder Giustinian, was unheard of!

Among the maidens who should grace the banquet to be given onMarcantonio's birthnight, more than one had sat for hours in some highbalcony of her palace, preparing for Venetian belle-ship with a patienceworthy of a better cause--her long locks, mysteriously treated, streaming over the broad brim of the great, crownless hat whichprotected her fair face, while the sun bestowed its last touch of beautyin bleaching the dark tresses to that rich, red, burnished gold whichthe Venetians prized. 

The young patrician was already esteemed a connoisseur in the mostexquisite industries of Venice, and the Lady Laura had confided to herson the ordering of a set of goblets of _girasole_ for the banquet--anew opalescent glass, with iridescent borderings, such as had never yetbeen seen at any Venetian fête. 

Thus the gondola of the Giustiniani floated for long hours before thefamous establishment of Girolamo Magagnati, so delicate and intricatewas the work that had been ordered from him; and the gondoliers, meanwhile, in their splendid liveries, held converse with othergondoliers in lazily drifting barks, with hatchments of other noblehouses embroidered on their sleeves; and their tones were strident andquarrelsome, or self-complacent and patronizing, as the quality of thesilken sashes which displayed the color of their house was heavier orpoorer than their own. 

One boasts of the lantern, all of brass, "Wrought by Messer AlessandroLeopardi--'come no c'è altro!'--there is no other like it--which he, thefavored gondolier, has been burnishing for the banquet of the Dandolo, to which he shall that night convey the noble lady of the Giustiniani!"

"It is less beautiful, " retorts a gondolier of the house of Mocenigo, the fringes of his sash of rose sweeping the bridge of his gondola as itmoves forward, slightly tilting on its side, with a quick, disdainfulmotion called forth by proper Mocenigo pride--so pliant are these barksof Venice to the moods of the gondolier. "It is less beautiful--by theHoly Madonna of San Castello!--than the lantern of wrought iron with thejewels of _rubino_ that Messer Girolamo Magagnati makes this day, byorder of the Eccellentissimo Andrea Mocenigo, with the jewels of thefine glass of Murano that shall be like roses flashing in the night!"

And he has sworn so great an oath, by that most ancient Madonna ofCastello, and so well has he vindicated the honor and splendor of hishouse in thus early appropriating this recent glory of Venetianworkmanship in its own family emblem, that there is no present need ofdistance between him and his rival, and resting upon his oar, as hestands with a proud and graceful bearing of victory, he allows thegondola to glide back into position with the lapping of the water. 

For the gondoliers of the house of Giustiniani are unfolding, withquick, ringing, jubilant voices, vast confidential tales of the fêtesthat are in preparation for the marriage of the young noble of theCouncil, their master, of which this banquet is only the precursor. "Forof course there will be a _sposalizia_! Santa Maria! there is no room onthe Canal Grande for the gondolas that come to the palazzo--from every_casa_ in the 'Libro d'Oro'--to win the favor of the donna nobile of theGiustiniani, for some bella donzella who shall be chosen for their youngmaster--who is like a prince, and will end one day in being Doge! SantaMaria di Castello, he does not wait that day to scatter his goldencoins!"

If that question of "sposalizia" is not imminent there is truth enoughfor any Venetian conscience in the story of the ranks of princelygondolas at the bend of the Canal Grande, on the days when the donnanobile of the Giustiniani gives welcome to her guests--princely gondolasthey are, with _felzes_ of brocaded and embroidered stuffs, theframework inlaid with ivory and mother of pearl, with metal fittingscuriously wrought, and all that bravery of pomp so dear to the Venetianheart, which calls forth surly decrees from those stern Signori of theCouncil--the much unloved "Provveditori alle Pompe, " the sumptuaryofficers of this superb Republic. 

Meanwhile, in this narrow water-street, sunk a few feet below the pavedfoot path that stretches to the doors of the dwellings, there are suddengrumbling movements among the retainers of the patrician families, asthey steer their gorgeous gondolas from side to side, to avoidhumiliating contact with that slow procession of barges bringing producefrom the island gardens of Mazzorbo, there are other barges laden withgreat, white wooden tubs of water from Fusina, fresh and very needful tothese cities of the sea, and the dark hulks of barks curiously entangledwith nets and masts and unwieldy tackle of sailor and fisher, showflashes of brilliant color as the water plays through the netted basketsswinging low against their sides, while the sunlight glances back fromthe gold and silver glory of the scales of living fish, crowded andpalpitating within their meshes. 

The fisherfolk who guide these barks are gray and gnomelike in theircoloring, tanned by sky and sea and ceaseless atmospheres of fish, intoa neutral tint, --less vivid in hues of skin and hair, with eyes lessbrilliant, with less vivacity and charm of bearing than the gayVenetians, --but they are the descendants of those island tribes fromwhich the commerce and greatness of Venice issued; there is almost ashow of stateliness in the aggravating slowness with which their heavilyfreighted barks proceed, serenely occupying the best of the narrowwaterway. They are not envious of the hangers-on of those palaces of thenobles, these free fisherfolk of the islands; they have only haughtystares for the servile set of gondoliers in lacings of gold andscarlet--who are not nobles nor fishers, nor people of the soil--andthey pass them silently, with much ostentation of taking all thegondoliers of Murano into the friendliness of their jests and curses, asthe barges touch and clash with some swiftly gliding gondolier of theirown rank, who wears no bravery or armorial bearings. 

Their homes--long, low, white-washed cottages--spread along the mainchannel and reach in lessening, dotted lines far off into the sea, whereother islands lie in friendly nearness; but the Bridge, with the Lionsof St. Mark on archivolt and parapet--the invariable official signet ofVenetian dominion--stretches between that simpler quarter and this, which holds the great houses of Murano, whose masters, a sort of _petitenoblesse_, have made their names illustrious by marvelous inventions inthat exquisite industry in which Venice has no rival. 

VI

The "Madonna del Sorriso" now lacked only the finishing touches upon theexquisite central figure, which reached more nearly to the spiritualideal than anything that had ever come from the brush of the Veronese, and already the Servite friars, in their long black robes and whitecowls, had visited the studio with suggestions many and fruitless, serving only to arouse the artist's indignant protest and increase hisdetermination to image more perfectly the poetic vision that had beenvouchsafed to him. 

"It hath not the beauty of the 'Venezia' in the palazzo, " said one. 

"And the church is dark, " said another, "and the people like the red andblue of the colors of the true Madonna. "

"And a frate, of the Servi--since it hath been painted for theconvent--here--kneeling, " suggested another, more timidly; for it wasknown that the Veronese was not always docile in these days, since hehad become great. 

"Nay, leave me, " said the Veronese fiercely; "for this one thing I_know_, and this will I paint, for the good of my soul, as mine artshall prompt me and not otherwise. And if it please not him--Fra Paolo, who hath given the order--I will bestow it elsewhere. "

Then a friar habited like the others, who had stood apart and had notspoken, came and threw back his cowl, dismissing the group with agesture. The features thus disclosed were unimportant, apart from thedomelike forehead, which might well belong to the most learned man ofhis learned age; but Fra Paolo's face owed its distinction to the rareimpression it gave the beholder of invincible calm and self-mastery, with a certain mysterious hint of power and a promise of unswervingness. His gaze held no suggestion of concealment; yet for the deeper thoughtsthat move the spirit of man, to those who knew him well his mild blueeyes remained inscrutable, while his courtesy to all made one forgetthat his words were few, and that of himself he had revealed nothing. 

"It is well, " he said, "to _know_ that we know. Serve faithfully the Godwho gave the gift and take no counsel from men who know not. "

Then he stood silent for a while before the picture, as if he wouldlearn its meaning, the artist watching anxiously, not guessing histhought. 

"The pious wish hath made the offering noble, " he said at length, inquiet, measured tones. "And for the face, it is holy--of the beauty thatGod permits--yet I pretend no criticism, since Art is not of mineunderstanding. I will not take the honor of the gift away from thegiver, though I had meant it otherwise. "

After Fra Paolo had left the studio the Veronese was still studying hispicture, pleased and serious, feeling that this man, who was not anartist, had comprehended the deepest mood in which he had everapproached his art, when Marina entered. 

"Fra Paolo hath found our offering worthy, " he said very gravely; andsuddenly remembering that Marina had come for the last time, "Benedettohath need of me in the outer studio for some measurements, " he said toMarcantonio, "but I shall soon return. Do thou, meanwhile, show the_damigella_ thy sketch. "

She turned inquiringly toward Marcantonio, who placed it silently beforeher. When he gathered courage to look at her she stood flushed andtrembling with clasped hands. 

"Marina!" he cried. 

She moved suddenly away from him, drawing herself up to her full height, one hand slightly extended, as if to keep him from coming nearer; buther face, as she turned it frankly to his, was lighted with a smile theVeronese would never copy, and her eyes shone through her tears. 

"Is it true, Marina?" he questioned radiantly, as he tried to seize herhand. 

But she still moved backward--not as if she were afraid, but as thoughshe would help him by a motion to understand. 

"You have confessed me unawares, " she said, "and shown me mine ownsecret, which I knew not. It is not to confess nor deny. "

"Yet you move away, Marina, as if you would not have it so. "

"Because only the renunciation of it is for us, " she answered firmly. "For I am of the people, and you--of the Giustiniani!"

"As you shall also be!" he affirmed, undaunted. 

"Marco, at Venice this is not easy!" The tone was a caress which shemade no effort to withhold, yet he dared not try again to touch herhand; he already felt her strength. 

"None the less, because it is not easy it shall be done. Reach me yourhand, Marina, to prove that you trust my vow. "

He was not wont to crave favor so humbly, but a new reverence hadentered into his soul. 

She hesitated for a moment, then her words came brokenly, yet withdignity. 

"Marco mio, not yet. Because I am of the people, and because theothers--your father and mother, who are of the nobles, and my father, who is of the people--may not consent, we will make no vows until thisdifficulty is conquered. "

"They shall not keep us from it. "

She shook her head sadly, but came no nearer. "Will GiustinianGiustiniani ask a daughter of the people? But Girolamo Magagnati is notless proud. "

"I will return now with thee to Murano. Perhaps thy father will befriendus. "

"No, no; without their consent it would be useless. I think I shall nottell him--it would be only a grief. "

"Because it meaneth much to thee?" Marco questioned, luminous andungenerous. 

She did not answer. 

"Thou dost verily make too much of the nobles and the people, Marina; weare all Venetians. "

"Venice is of the sea and of the land--not like other cities; and theVenetian people is not one, but twain; my father hath often said it. Some other day, perhaps--I do not know--if it is needful for thepicture, I may come again. Will you tell the maestro? I think he is ourfriend, and he will understand. "

He would have followed her, but she waved him back. 

The day had a melancholy cast in the narrow waterways of Murano, whereclouds of smoke, dense and constant, rose from hundreds ofglass-workers' chimneys, dimming the reflections in the lagoon andobscuring that wonderful coloring of sky which is nowhere so radiant asat Venice. 

Beyond the bridge, which the ubiquitous Lion guards with menacing, uplifted paw, beyond the Piazzetta of San Pietro where the acacia treesare growing, down by the main canal, where the breath comes freer--forit is broader than the one where the gondolas from the great houses ofVenice gather and float lazily; past the line of low, whitewashedcottages bordering the narrow foot-path on either side, over the littlewooden bridge that spans the lagoon, fifty feet across from bank to bankwith its ugly traghetto at the farther end, a figure was often seenwending, with a child held in tender mother fashion, to the campo of the"Matrice, " the mother church of San Donate. 

To-day when Marina had returned from Venice she had caught the littleZuane to her breast with such a passion of tenderness that he looked upinto her face with startled eyes; hers were brimming with smiles andtears, and with that wise child-knowledge, which is not granted toearth's learned ones, he put up his tiny hand with a wan smile andstroked her cheek. 

"We will go to San Donato, Zuanino mio, " she said caressingly, as henestled closer, "and I have _thee_, my bimbo!"

She put the little one gently down as they entered the triangular fieldwhere the grass grew green and long--whiteness of sand gleaming inirregular patches between the clumps of coarse blades; but to her thispoor turf was something precious associated with that island sanctuary, restful and strange, and she drew a long breath with a sense ofsuppressed pleasure; for sometimes the water, with its shimmering, uncertain surfaces, wearied her, and unconsciously she craved somethingmore positive. 

The child, with uncertain steps, tottered toward the standard of SanMarco, which floated proudly from the staff that rose from the rudestone pillar in the center of the campo, where other little ones wereplaying; in the corner by the well groups of women, from the cottagesthat bounded the campo on one side, were waiting to draw water for theevening meal, putting down their jugs and going first into the Duomo tosay an ave, that the good Madonna might bless the cup. 

A few feet only from the Duomo the campanile drew her vision skyward;the film of smoke was lighter here, and the sky seemed nearer--bluer. She turned to her little charge with a beaming face--her moods were soeasily wrought upon by phases of nature, but slowly moved by personalinfluences. "See'st thou, bimbo, how it is beautiful here by the Duomo?"

But the little fellow, in one of his sudden spasms of pain, wasstriking the air impotently with small, clenched fists, frightening thechildren who were gathering around him, joining in his cries. 

Her caress and passionate forgiveness were always ready for the paroxysmin which she was violently pushed away and combated with struggling feetand hands, before came the period of exhaustion in which he nestledclose, panting from weakness. Then she carried him into the church, where, kneeling before the Mother of Sorrows, whose outstretched handsseemed to touch her own in responsive sympathy and gift of calm, sheprayed and wept. 

"O Holy Mater Dolorosa! Why need the children suffer?--they are sotender and so dear!"

She knelt with loving, protecting arms folded close about the littleform now breathing softly and at rest, while an agony of questioningfilled her prayer to that beseeching Mater Dolorosa, who, wrapped in theclinging folds of her long blue robe, still leaned forward from themarble background of the apse, compassionate for the suffering ones ofearth, with imploring hands and ceaseless dropping tears, symbol of loveabounding--a symbol, too, of the dignity of those who suffer and arepure in heart. 

This sanctuary was almost a home to the maiden, who came hither topraise or question, for life was full of enigmas. Here, too, where shecame from duty and deep devotion, with an intricate sensitiveness ofconscience which often rendered her unintelligible to her confessor, shelingered for delight. For the tracery on the arches--the color, thewonderful delicacy of the sculpture--were of that time when art wassuggestive and faint, in tint and meaning, like a dream, and its messagewas always spiritual. 

"It is not Thou, O Christ, " she said, "who willest pain; but thychildren, who are not always loving!"

For in her reverie she was comforted by that vision of a legendary timewhen the Holy Mother had stood, beautiful, compassionate, andcommanding, in this field of flaming scarlet lilies; when a greatemperor had obeyed her bidding, and San Donato, the Duomo of Murano, hadarisen as a refuge for the sorrowing. 

In tender language of the people it was the mother church--"Matrice. "

She made a cushion of her cloak and laid the little one upon it, for hestill slept and she would not waken him; and then, though the quaint, inlaid pavement was cold and bare, she knelt again, her rosary droppingfrom her hands as she shyly whispered the burden of her strange newconfession to this ever-waiting, tender Mother--her confession more fullof pain than joy, yet already dear, and a thing not to be surrendered, though it should bring her only pain. 

But there was no other friend to whom she told it. 

Soon, alas! the days grew over-full of pain, and Marina came more oftento the Mater Dolorosa, for the little Zuane had not grown stronger withthe coming of the spring; sleep came to him more easily, but it did notbring refreshment, and the roses on his cheeks were only signs offailing bloom. Passionately Marina's loving prayers were breathedbefore the shrine of the Madonna San Donato, but the little one grewweaker every day, till, after a long night of watching, a sweet-voicednun stood with Marina beside the cradle. 

"The burden of the baby's suffering life is changed to blessing, " shesaid. "Earth held no joy for him; God hath been merciful beyond thyprayer, my daughter. "

VII

Fra Paolo Sarpi--this friar so grave and great and unemotional--had beensince he had entered the convent in his precocious boyhood the centralfigure, fascinating the interest of his community by the marvel of hisprogress, so that those who had been his teachers stood reverentlyaside, before he had attained to manhood, recognizing gifts beyond theirleading which had already won homage from the savants of Europe andcrowned the order of the Servi with unexampled honors. The element ofthe unusual in the young Paolo's endowments had transformed thisBenjamin of the convent into a hero, and surrounded the calm flow of hisstudious life with a halo of romance for these Servite friars; yet thegood Fra Giulio in those early days, having little learning wherewith toestimate his progress and watching over him like a father, had beengrieved at his strange placidity. "He sorely needeth some touch ofemotion, " he said yearningly; "methinks I love the lad as if he weremine own son, and I feel something lacking in his life. "

"Fret not the lad needlessly with those fanciful notions of thine, " FraGianmaria had retorted with much asperity. "It is the most marvelouspiece of mental mechanism that I have ever dreamed. Already he hathattained to larger knowledge than thou, with thy gray hairs, canstcomprehend. "

Fra Giulio had crossed himself devoutly, as if confessing to someearthliness. "I measure not my simple mind with that of a genius, mybrother; for so God hath endowed our lad. Yet it may be that He meanethman to garner other blessings besides knowledge. We received him as achild into our fold, and we are responsible for his development. But hiscondition is not normal. "

"Genius is abnormal, " Fra Gianmaria had responded shortly. 

"He hath no wish but for this ceaseless mental labor; all naturalyouthful fancies, all joy in the things of beauty--for these he carethnaught. "

The elder friar's troubled utterance had stirred no tremor in hiscompanion's stern reply. "Thou and I, my brother, have attained bypenances and years of abnegation to that mood which hath been grantedthe boy as a gift to fit him for the cloister life. It were smallkindness to implant a struggle of which he knows not the beginnings. "

And now, after all these years, through which the good Fra Giulio hadwatched this son of his affections, whom he loved with a love "passingthe loves of earth" he pathetically told himself, --"as if God thus madeup to him for all the loves he had resigned, "--now that the name of FraPaolo was uttered with reverence while his own was unknown, he stillexpressed his heart in many tender cares, providing the new cassockbefore the scholar had noticed that the one he wore was seamed andfrayed, with such other gentle ministries as the convent rule permittedtoward one who never gave a worldly thought to the morrow. 

And still, after all these years, the fatherly friar often fondlyrecurred to a time when he had first seemed to catch some dim, shadowedglimpse of that inner self which Fra Paolo so rarely expressed. He hadbeen endeavoring to rouse the lad to enthusiasm. "Never have I known oneshow so little pleasure in nature, " he had said. They were standing onthe terrace of a convent among the hills beyond the plains of Venetia, and the view was beautiful and new for the youth. 

"What is nature?" the lad had responded quietly. 

"Nature?" Fra Giulio echoed, startled at the question. "Why, nature isGod's creation. Dost thou not find this bit of nature beautiful?"

"It is pleasant, " the young friar had assented, without enthusiasm. "Buthath God created anything nobler than the mind and soul of man? Theearth is but for his habitation. "

"Nay, " the old man had replied, in a tone of disappointment, "it is morefor me--much more for those whom we call poets. "

"Poets are dreamers, " the lad had said, turning to his old friend with asmile which seemed affectionate, yet was baffling, and went not deepenough for love. "I would not dream; I must know. "

"A little dreaming would not hurt thee, my Paolo; for sometimes itseemeth to those who care for thee that thou needest rest. "

"Rest is satisfaction, " the lad answered quickly. "If there be a problemto be solved, I would rather think than dream. I would rather come incontact with the nobler activities--the mental and spiritualforces--through the minds and works of men. I would find such attritionmore helpful than this phase of creation which thou callest 'nature, 'whose unfolding is more passive, depending on its inherent law. "

"This also is of God's gift, Paolo mio, " Fra Giulio had said yearningly. "Sometimes thou seemest to find too little beauty in thy life, and whenI brought thee hither I hoped it might move thy soul. "

"What can be more beautiful, " the young philosopher had questionedearnestly, "than the fitting of all to each, the search for hidden keys, the linking of problems that seemed apart? These are the things thatmove me. I must walk soberly, Fra Giulio, lest I miss some revelation, so sacred and so mysterious is knowledge! And the love of it leaves meno room for questions of outside beauty--this ordered beauty of hiddenlaw is so wonderful!"

For one moment, as Fra Giulio had looked at him, he fancied that he hadseen deeper into his eyes than ever before; then the veil had seemed torise up from the boy's heart and close over its depths. If it had been amoment of self-revelation the young friar was again protected by thatbaffling calm as he glanced about him, turning affectionately to his oldfriend. "It pleaseth me that thou art pleased, " he said. 

Fra Giulio had answered with a sigh. It was hard for one who loved sotruly to get so near, yet be no nearer. "I could wish that thou alsoshouldst take pleasure in this beauty, my Paolo, for thou art missing ajoy that God permits. "

Then the youthful scholar had turned his eyes upon him silently; and ithad seemed to the old man, in his great love, that a sudden glory hadtransfigured the grave young face like a consecration. He stillremembered the tones of that clear voice saying serenely: "My Father, when God speaketh a message in our souls, the peace and beauty whichcome to us as we follow its call, are in the measure which He hathdecreed for us. "

Now that the convent rang with his triumphs, and Fra Paolo was oftenabsent from his cell on missions of honor, the old friar sometimeswondered how many of those philosophic and scientific truths which hadmade him famous as an original thinker had come to the lad inglimmerings on that first night among the hills, when, turning to hisold friend and stretching out his hands with a solemn, imploring motionwhich seemed to confess a desperate need of isolation, he had said only, "Let me think!"

Had his seeming nearness to the stars in the convent _loggia_ broughthim a premonition of the later message which had made him the "friendand master" of Galileo?

Did he develop his "Laws of Sound" in that voiceful silence; or was itin that solitude he had first watched the gentle ebb and flow of his ownlife-current and learned the secret which Harvey, later, uttered to theworld?

Or had he been wholly absorbed in those philosophical questions which heso brilliantly disputed at the learned Court of Mantua?

But to be near him was only to wonder more at the mystery whichenveloped him; and Fra Giulio, now that the lad had reached his prime, often went reverently back to that night under the stars, when thegifted youth had first stood, distanced as it were from men, remote fromhuman habitations and alone with the One whom only he acknowledged asMaster--then, perhaps, he had first been conscious of his latent power;surely then the manifold message of his life must have whispered withinhim many premonitions!

The time was long past when a question could arise as to the right ofthe Augustinians to rich possessions in church and convent; and thepriceless treasures of art, flung sometimes in atonement upon theirquiet walls by a world-worn artist, or sent in propitiation for someunconfessed sin by a prince of Church or State, were found side by sidewith the gifts and legacies of the faithful, which, in sincere devotion, they often impoverished their families to bestow. 

But none of these things had charms for Fra Paolo. Not even the beautyof the cloisters, where the low, gray arches rested on slender shafts ofmarble, wrought and twisted into as many devices, drew his thoughts fromthe ceaseless contemplation of his problems; not even the pettedrose-tree, lovingly trained by the gentle Fra Francesco and lifting itspink glory to the crest of the colonnade, won his eyes to wander fromthe absorbing treasures of the great library where he passed his days. Here many a brother had taught himself patience over the fine, endlesstext of an ancient gospel, or wrought into the exquisite illumination ofsome missal which stood to him in the place of his daily living thoseyearning, torturing, hungering affections which had so enriched a gentlehome--as a brother, less disciplined, had carved his unruly tempers intothe grotesque figures of the reading desks. But for Fra Paolo the greatlibrary of the convent held no unsatisfied yearnings--only an infinitecontent and power to achieve. 

From the days when those curious in philosophical research had flockedfrom the neighboring universities to see this professor of theology whocould not be conquered in argument, and had been confronted by asmooth-faced lad of twenty, until now, he was still the glory of theServi; and well might the friars watch in triumph, as one by one hegathered laurels for their order. A little human flush of triumph or ofself-conceit would have added charm to his argument, but these noteswere lacking; clearly, logically, unanswerably, he met each question, convincing without emotion and hastening from the gay court, of whichthese intellectual tourneys were the delight, to the welcome seclusionof the convent. If he seemed to have missed a real childhood, --itsfollies, its innocent pleasures, its winsome affections, --so later, thetemptations that would naturally beset a career so extraordinary fellharmlessly away from him, for a passion for knowledge burned within him, consuming all ignoble motives and keeping this young scholar, in friar'srobes, in marvelous singleness of heart, in the midst of a flatteringand luxurious court. 

Always he had been a law to himself, both morally and intellectually;never before did it seem that genius had been cast in a mold so orderlyand calm. In that state of intense concentration which was his habitualmood, he accomplished without apparent effort the things for whichothers paid by a life-time of struggle; and morally he had no visiblecombats, not seeming to be even reached by the things which temptedother men. His wants were fewer than the simplest rule of his conventallowed, and it seemed less that he had triumphed over the usual earthlytemptations than that he had been created abnormally free from them thathis whole strength might spend itself in the solving of problems. In acertain sense he stood mysteriously alone, though his friends were manyand devoted and among the wise and venerated of the earth; but there wasalways a door closed to them beyond the affection which he returnedthem. "Always, " he said once, "we veil our faces": yet none doubted hissincerity. 

From time to time, as the years sped, some echo of the jealousy whichhis phenomenal success and the boldness of his bearing naturally evoked, penetrated to the cloisters of the Servi; and more than once there hadbeen a denunciation to the Inquisition to discuss; some one in authorityhad found fault with his theological opinions and denounced him for hisreading of a passage in Genesis, upon which he based his argument--theaffair was grave indeed. 

"Ah, the pity of it--the pity of it!" Fra Giulio had exclaimed. "Theyshould show mercy--he is still so young a man!"

"Ay, young enough to need much discipline, " bravely muttered a friarwho dared to disbelieve in their prodigy. 

"Silence!" commanded Father Gianmaria, who was now the Superior, in astentorian tone; for within these walls there was no appeal from hisjudgment or his temper. "The man who speaks only what he _knows_ is oldin wisdom;" and turning he addressed the company in great dignity: "Itdoth appear that Rome approveth Fra Paolo's rendering and hath gravelycensured the Inquisitor who hath cited him, commanding him to meddleonly with that of which he hath some understanding. "

"There are then tale-bearers whose jealousy would ruin our Paolo!" FraGiulio had exclaimed in anxiety. 

"It was none other than Fra Paolo himself who carried the tale, " theSuperior retorted in scorn of the old man's weak affection. "Fra Paolorefused to appear before the Inquisitor who had cited him, who, healleged, knew not Hebrew nor Greek, and had therefore no knowledge uponwhich to base his judgment; and on this ground Fra Paolo appealed toRome. "

"It were a pity, " said a gentle-faced young friar, who had beenlistening silently, but with an expression of deep and affectionateinterest, "that one of so rare learning should remain long in a positionof danger to orthodoxy. Already the Court of Mantua hath been censuredby the Holy Father for heretical opinions. "

"Nay; but for harboring heretics, hunted and driven, " Fra Giuliocorrected warmly. "There be deeds of mercy that will be forgiven us. "

A look of perplexity crossed the candid, boyish face of Fra Francesco. 

"But the law of obedience is more simple, " he said timidly; "and ourHoly Father--"

"Thou, not yet out of thy novitiate, doest well, verily, to prate ofobedience and doctrines, " interrupted Father Gianmaria, less severelythan he was wont to treat such breaches of etiquette; for Fra Francescohad deep, spiritual, loving eyes, in which an unuttered wonder sometimesseemed to chide, for all his gentleness; and his ways were winsome. 

So, through the years, whether he were present or absent, the life ofthe convent had centered about Fra Paolo, who now, after many missionsof importance, had once more returned to his old cell in the Servi, withanother added for his books and labors, since often it suited him to bealone. The breath of jealousy still clouded the serenity of his sky, andhe was not without some unfulfilled longings; but no scandal had evertouched him. He was great enough now to be smitten through his friends, and the good Fra Giulio had been the victim taken in his stead; upon FraPaolo's last homecoming to the convent the loving, fatherly greeting hadfailed him. 

"Ask the nuns, to whom he is father confessor; they will have no other, and refuse admittance to one of our order who hath been sent to takethis duty upon him. And our good Fra Giulio hath been removed inhumiliation, and languisheth in Bologna, by order of the Patriarch whohath been won by the tale of one who loveth thee not. "

"There is no more to it than that?" Fra Paolo questioned. 

"Nay, no more, my brother, " Fra Francesco answered with conviction. 

"The name then?" said Fra Paolo; and when it had been told him herecognized the man as one in whom trust was misplaced, and one whointrigued for power. 

"The charge?" he asked again. And when he had patiently learned thedetails of which Fra Giulio's long and faithful service gave littlehint, he gathered evidence wherewith to refute them, and journeyedswiftly back to Rome, returning, triumphant, to reinstate the good oldfriar with honor in the home and offices he loved--the manner of hisreturn making amends to Fra Giulio for the pain he had suffered, sosweet it seemed to him to owe to this son of his affections all thegladness of his later days. 

VIII

While the little Zuane was failing, Marcantonio, seeing Marina butseldom, solaced himself in preparing a royal gift to offer to his motheron the occasion of his own birthday fête. The idea had come to him thatnight after the Veronese had touched his own faulty sketch into suchrounded life; besides, he had thought but one beautiful thought since hehad, as it were, been unconsciously brought to confession by that scenein the studio. And Paolo Cagliari had been most kind in accepting hiscommission with an enthusiasm which promised wonderful results. Great aswas his fame in those days, --and the Veronese never lived beyond hisfame, --still, as in his earlier years, he was eager for any new methodof proving the genius in which his own faith was as unbounded as hiscapacity to achieve was vigorous and tireless. And the young noble'sunique fancy for a superb goblet of crystal _da Beroviero_, with aminiature of Marina of Murano enlaced in exquisite gold borders and setround with costly pearls--a trifle fit to offer to a princess--not onlypleased the artist's well-known taste for luxury, but seemed to him anobject worthy of his skill. In the kindness of his heart he would makethe lovely face so winning that the great lady should yield to theprayer that had prompted the gift. 

Among all the elaborate gift-pieces that had come from the workshops ofMurano, but one had as yet approached this, and it had been sent withthe homage of the Senate, by a retiring ambassador of "His MostChristian Majesty, " to the Queen of France, and it bore, from Titian'shand, the portrait of her royal husband. This goblet, then, must surpassthat one in magnificence, for it was the Veronese's opportunity; and inhis soul, genial as it was, some sense of rivalry, born of Titian'sassumption of the highest place in Venetian art, would last forever, inspite of the great master's manifest affection. The suggestion of thepearls--an added touch--was indeed due to Paolo Cagliari's over-weeningsumptuousness, and the eager young lover was scarcely more anxious forthe completion of this gem, upon which his hope depended, than was thegreat artist who already had all Venice at his feet. 

"I shall need no sitting, " the Veronese had said, when they wereplanning for the work. "My picture is nearly completed, and it willsuffice. Nay, ask her not, my Marco; she is a devote--she will notunderstand. "

Marcantonio flushed like a boy. He knew it would be difficult to obtainher consent, and for that very reason he must win it, for he was a trueknight. 

"How shall I win my lady's favor, " he cried hotly, "if I peril it bylack of chivalry! There is no prouder maiden among the donne nobile onthe Canal Grande. "

"_Altro! Altro_!" said the master quietly. "She also shall look downfrom the balconies in the palazzo Giustiniani. "

But when the young patrician told her glowingly of his wish to give hismother, on his great day, the most beautiful gift in all the world, itwas hard to make her yield. 

"It is not fitting, " she answered quite simply. 

"Yes, yes, Marina--since I love thee!"

"Ah, no; it is only sad. " Her eyes filled with tears and she moved away, so that he could not touch her hand. 

"Trust me, Marina! The Veronese knows the world, and he says it is well. It is this that shall win the consent of my mother, and she will conquermy father. And in the Gran' Consiglio----"

He turned his eyes suddenly away from Marina lest she should trace thefaintest flicker of a doubt within them, as the vision rose before himof that imperious body, so relentless in its decrees, so tenacious inits traditions, so positive in its autocracy; but the threatenedinvincibility of this force only nerved him to a resistance asinvincible, and he turned back to her with a flashing face, almostbefore she had noticed the interruption. 

"There also--in the Consiglio--it shall be arranged, and all will bewell. "

And where two were ready for the end that should be gained the pleadingwas not over-long, though the thought was very strange for this simplemaiden of Murano; so the precious painting was finished and in the handsof the decorators. And meanwhile, during those days when Marina had beenwatching the flickering of the little Zuane's pale flame of life andthere had been no spare moments for Marcantonio, he had tried to absorbhimself, as far as possible, in the preparation of this gift--since shewould not let him go to her--and he had come to regard it as the symbolof success; for failure was never for an instant contemplated in hisvision of the future. There were pearls to be selected, one by one, invisits innumerable to the Fondaco dei Turchi, where the finest of suchtreasures were not secured at a first asking, and in these his motherwas a connoisseur; but there were many more anxious visits to Murano, tobe assured that no step in the fashioning of his gift was endangeringits perfection. 

But even for the most impatient, time may not tarry indefinitely, andthe lagging moments had at last brought round that festa of San Marcowhich meant so much for Venice, with its splendid pageants for theChurch, its festivities for the people, its fluttering of doves in thePiazza, and of timid, eager maiden hearts, waiting in a sort of shyassurance for that earliest Venetian love-token, the _boccolo_--therosebud which breathed the secret of many a young Venetian lover to his_inamorata_ under those April skies, on the festa of this patron saintof Venice. 

And the next morning the stately lady of the Giustiniani stood quitealone on the balcony of the great palace at the bend of the CanalGrande, leaning upon her gold-embroidered cushions to watch the gondolathat was just landing at the step of the Piazzetta; the restlessmovements of her tapering jeweled fingers were the only sign of anemotion she rarely betrayed, though doubtless, under the faultlessdignity of her bearing, there were often currents of feeling andthwartings hard to be endured. 

She was thinking of her boy with a great and sudden tenderness, now thatthe moment had come in which she would be less to him and the world ofmen must be more, as from the distance she saw the gondola touch thelanding and watched him until he passed out of sight, after pausing withhis father for a moment before the great columns of San Marco and SanTeodoro, looking up perhaps with a keener sense of the dread scenes theyhad witnessed than had ever before possessed him, though the sunshinestreamed brilliantly over the water and life seemed full of promise forthis only son of the Ca' Giustiniani, on his way to take the oath of"Silence and Allegiance to the Republic, " as a "_Nobile di Gran'Consiglio_. "

Marcantonio had entered the gondola gaily, with a full, pleasurablesense of the beauty of life, and well content with that portion whichhad fallen to his lot; for he was easily affected, and the air of thepalace was full of the excitement of his fête. The only forebodings thatshadowed his sunshine were connected with Marina and the gift which heshould offer to his mother upon his return from the Ducal Palace. Butthe day was one to banish every hint of failure, making him moreconscious of his power than he had ever been before, and he felt himselffloating toward attainment--whatever the difficulties might be. But withhis first step upon the Piazzetta he forgot the glory of the sunshineflashing over the blue waters, and a sudden sense of fate possessed him, as his father made an almost imperceptible pause in his grave progresstoward the Ducal Palace, and with the slightest possible movement ofhis hand seemed to direct his son's attention to the great granitecolumns which bore the emblems of the patron saints of Venice. 

A hundred times, in crossing the Piazzetta, Marcantonio had been vaguelyaware of them as appropriate emblems of barbaric force and splendor andallegoric Christian allegiance; but suddenly they stood to him forhistoric records--the echoes of dread deeds avenged there rolled forthfrom the space between the columns, and the jeweled eyes of the terriblewinged Lion flashed defiance upon any who questioned, in the remotestway, the will or the act of the Republic. He glanced toward the elderman, some deprecatory comment rising to his lips as he strove todissipate the symbolic mood which was surely possessing him, for he felthimself uncomfortably conscious of the meaning wrought into the verystones about him, and to-day this over-mastering assertion ofVenice--always Venice dominant--was oppressive. 

But his father, apparently unaware of Marcantonio's turbulentsensations, wore his usual reserved and dignified mien; even the motionhe had seemed to make before the columns in the Piazzetta was probablyonly due to Marcantonio's imagination, and the young fellow's lightrejoinder passed unuttered, intensifying his discomfort. He realizedthat he was not searching for this symbolism with a poet's appreciation, nor as an archaeologist delighting in curios, but as a son of theRepublic--to gather her history and her purpose, to make himself onewith her, to put himself under her yoke--and in his heart he rebelled. 

Yet it was he, this time, who paused, undeniably, before the greatwindow on the Piazzetta. The sun streamed in broad flashes of light overthe soft rose-tinted walls of the palazzo and over the splendid balconyfrom which the Doge was wont to view the processions and fêtes of theRepublic; the richly sculptured decorations detached themselves at oncein allegory, the figures all leading up to Venice enthroned, holding outto the world her proud motto, "Fortis, justa, trono furias, mare subpede pono. " (Strong, just, I put the furies beneath my throne and thesea beneath my foot. ) He walked on under a spell, feeling that the coilswere tightening around him; he was a noble, but not free; yet he wouldnot have surrendered his opportunities for the freer life of the peoplewho had no part in the Consiglio. 

He quickened his pace that the moment of irresolution might be thesooner over. 

"Wait!" his father commanded, as Marcantonio would have entered thepalace gate; "haste ill befits thy grave and dignified purpose. Beforethou enterest the Consiglio I would have thee reverently mark how, atthe palace gate, Justice sits enthroned on high, between the Lions ofSt. Mark, while Courage, Prudence, Hope, and Charity wait upon her. "

"And below, " answered Marcantonio, because he could think of nothingelse to say, and because he knew every angle and carving of the palacefrom the aesthetic point of view better than his father did; "below isthe Doge Foscari, kneeling very reverently to our noble Lion. "

His father slowly scanned him with his inscrutable gaze, but answerednothing, and they passed under the magnificent Porta della Carta quitesilently. Under the deep shadow of the gateway the business of the DucalPalace was already progressing. Secretaries at their desks werepreparing papers for discussion, while their assistants came and wentwith messages from the various departments of the great body of workerswithin the palace; they were too absorbed to look up as this Chief ofthe Ten passed them, so oblivious were they of anything but their dutythat the stir about them left them serene and undisturbed, not evenpenetrating the realm of their consciousness. 

"There is no more learned nor devoted body of scribes in the world, "said Giustinian, with pride; "they have not a thought beyond theirpapers, and most wonderfully do they sift and prepare them for theCouncil, working often far into the night. "

"It is machinery, not life!" Marcantonio exclaimed, hastening beyond theportal. 

The great courtyard, under the wonderful blue of the sky, was aglow withcolor; the palace façades, broken into irregular carvings, seemed tohold the sunshine in their creamy surfaces; the superb wells of greenbronze, magnificently wrought and dimmed as yet by littleweather-staining, offered a treasury of luminous points. Here, in theearly morning, the women of the neighborhood gathered with theirwater-jars, but now the court was filled with those who had business inthe Ducal Palace--red-robed senators and members of the Consigliotalking in knots; a councillor in his violet gown, a group ofmerchant-princes in black robes, enriched with costly furs and relievedby massive gold chains, absorbed in discussion of some practical detailsfor the better ordering of the _Fondachi_, those storehouses and martsfor foreign trade peculiar to Venice; some grave attorney, more soberlyarrayed, making haste toward the gloom of the secretary's corner; asprinkling of friars on ecclesiastical business, of gondoliers in thevaried liveries of the senators waiting their masters' call; here andthere a figure less in keeping with the magnificence around him, toofull of his trouble to be abashed, going to ask for justice at theDoge's feet--the heart of Venice was pulsing in the court, and under thearches came the gleam and shimmer of the sea. Up and down the splendidstairway that opened immediately from the Porta della Carta theVenetians came and went--nobles old and young; the people, bringingwrongs to be adjusted, or favors to be granted, or some secret messagefor the terrible _Bocca di Leone_; the people, rich and poor, incontinuous tread upon this Giant Stairway, guarded by the gods of warand of the sea; the winged Lion enthroned above, just over the landingwhere the elected noble dons the rank of _Serenissimo_--thiskaleidoscopic epitome of the life of the Republic was bewildering. 

"How was it possible that all these people could take part in it withoutemotion?" the young patrician asked himself, forgetting that in thisfamiliar scene the emotion only was new for him. 

At the head of the landing on the Giant Stairway the Senator arrestedhis son with a gesture of command. "Welcome, " he said, "to theConsiglio, Marcantonio Giustiniani. Thou wilt not forget that thoucomest of a house which has held honors in Church and State. May thisday be memorable for Venice and for thee!"

The influences of their surroundings were strong upon them both; but theyoung fellow, in his bounding life, craved something more than thisformal induction into the official life of his sumptuous state--helonged to feel the human throb beneath it, that the sense of its weightmight be lifted; but he could not find his voice until they had passedthrough the loggia and reached the chambers of the _Avvogadori_, wheresat the keepers of the Golden Book. 

He stretched out his hand wistfully and touched the elder man. 

"Father!" he cried, in a voice not well controlled. And again, moresteadily, though no answer came, "Father, I will not forget!"

The finding of his name among the birth records of the nobles of Venice, the registration witnessed by the three solemn Avvogadori, --thoseofficers of the law whose rulings in their department wereinexorable, --the act of confirmation before the Imperial Senate, whither, in grave procession, they immediately fared, preceded by thesacred "Libro d'Oro, " upon which the oath of allegiance was sworn withbended knee--the ceremony was soon over, and Marcantonio stood enrolledamong the ruling body of the great Republic. 

As they returned through the splendid halls of the palace, Giustinianpaused frequently to exchange a greeting with some old senator who cameforward to welcome the young noble to the grave circle of rulers, andthey were followed with glances of interest as they passed through thePiazza. For it was whispered in the _Broglio_ that there werereasons--valid and patriotic, as were all the arguments of Venice--forthe fact that no member of that ancient and loyal house had worn thehighest honor of the state. "_The Ca' Giustiniani was too old, toowealthy, too influential--too much a part of Venice itself_. "

"Like the Orseoli!" said Morosini Morosini, who was a friend of theGiustiniani, and who, like many another strong-brained Venetian, knewthe taste of unsatisfied longings, yet kept a brave heart for therecords of the Republic. And as he spoke there came to some of them whoknew their annals well a stinging memory of the tale--which was nolegend--of that pathetic group in their island sanctuary--the brotherswho were left, after the death of Otto, the exiled Doge, and of Orso, the noble bishop-prince, all of the house of Orseoli, who, with theirabbess-sister Felicia, were wounded to the heart because for the crimeof too great love and service the jealous and unrequiting Senate hadbanished them forever from the Venice so loyally served--had decreed theextinction of a family to whom, as Doge and Patriarch, the Republic owedthe wisest and most self-sacrificing of her rulers!

"Nay, " said another speaker quickly, a friend to Morosini thehistorian--for the Broglio had been known to have a voice as well asears, and the subject was a dangerous one, not honorable toVenice--"Nay, there are no Orseoli. But it is for honor to theGiustiniani that none hath been chosen for the Serenissimo. He isstrong, grave, and very silent; but most wise in council, most prudentin resource. He is needed among the _Savii_. "

"And the coronation oath hath grown over straight since the days of theMichieli, " responded Morosini. "The Giustinian is not a man for our_promissione_ which, verily, fitteth ill with the dignity of ourPrince--a man of spirit may well find it hard to assume the berettaunder such restrictions!"

IX

With the nonchalance that concealed a skill all Venetian the gondoliersof the Giustiniani guided them gracefully through the floating craftmoored to the stakes which rose in sheafs before their palace, announcing the colors of their noble house. Barges bearing flowers anddecorations for the fête, fruits and game, were unloading on the broadmarble steps, and through the wrought open-work of the splendid gates ascene of activity was disclosed in the nearer court which served as anoffice for the various departments of the household; while thehouse-master had come down the steps from his cozy lodge beside theentrance, and stood dispensing orders to a group of eager domestics. 

In the deep shadow of the entrance-court the open one, through which thelight streamed radiantly, seemed far distant, and when the great bellsent clanging echoes from court to court, gondoliers in undressliveries, who were lazily lounging and chatting, sprang to a show ofactivity over all those finishing touches of polish and nicety which hadbeen achieved long before; and the lithe figures coming and going, throwing themselves into graceful attitudes over their semblance oflabor, exchanging joyous sallies in anticipation of the evening'srevelry, awoke a contagious merriment. Marcantonio rallied from theheaviness of the morning and felt young again, as he yielded to theirinfluence and wandered among them, tossing compliments and reparteeswith Venetian freedom. 

In the midst of this harmless trifling the voice of GiustinianGiustiniani sounded sternly. 

"Marcantonio, these ancient arms have been burnished in honor of thisday; I have a moment to remind thee of their history--if thou hastforgotten. "

He was calling from across the open court, where the sunshine seemedsuddenly less, and Marcantonio hastened to respond. 

The seneschal called for lights, for the workmanship of these heirloomswas too fine to be appreciated in the gloom which pervaded the far innercourt; two or three iron lanterns were brought and hung up, andlink-boys flashed flaring torches upon the pieces on the wall near whichtheir master stood. 

"Surely thou dost recall this breastplate of the General TaddeoGiustiniani, who forced the Austrians to surrender Trieste, when Venicelaid siege to the city in 1369? It was wrought in the East, no doubt, and the inlaying is of gold and precious; but not for this do we keep itchained. It is a priceless jewel in the history of our house, forTrieste meant much for Venice. "

He raised the heavy chain that fastened it, and the links fell, clanging, against the stones of the wall; for this hall, which served asan armory, was like a prison in its construction, --as strong and asforbidding, --and here, among the ancestral relics, were kept the armswhich every nobleman, by Venetian law, was required to hold in readinessto equip his household against uprisings of the populace, who were, bythis same law, debarred these means of self-defense. 

At a sign from the Senator a young squire came forward, proudly bearinga sword with a jeweled hilt, in an intricately wrought scabbard. Giustinian drew it from its sheath, displaying a blade exquisitelydamascened with acanthus foliage, as he turned to his son. 

"This is especially thine own, " he said, "in honor of this day--thymaiden sword. So far as the handiwork of Cellini may make it worthy of ason of our house, it hath been worthily chosen for thee. Yet, unlessthou leavest it to those who come after thee, enriched by the name of aGiustinian who hath wrought of his best for Venice, it will be allunworthy of a place among these trophies. "

The torch-bearers flashed their lights over it, and the squires of thehousehold pressed forward to admire it, but Giustinian cut short theenthusiastic chorus of the young men-at-arms and Marcantonio's eagerwords of appreciation, crossing the sombre hall with stately steps; forto his mind this important day held many ceremonies yet unfulfilled, andthe pomp with which he chose to surround them was not a circumstance tobe dilated on. 

"This, " he said, as he touched a quaint dagger, "belonged to thineancestor, Marco Giustiniani, Ambassador to the Scaglieri; there wereother envoys of our name in other Italian provinces, in England and thePapal Court, for we have been great in statescraft as well as in war. But I wrong thee in _seeming_ to think thou knowest not the history ofthine house. Perhaps, in these latter days, a man may best distinguishhimself in statesmanship, for the mind is a weapon not to beslighted--when it is builded with strength, sharpened with careful use, and so wielded"--his gaze fell full upon Marcantonio for a weightymoment--"so wielded that it hath no pliancy save at the will of itsowner. For sometimes it chanceth"--again he paused for a moment--"that amind hath more masters than one, and Venice brooks no rival. "

His father had been pointing out one heirloom after another while hespoke, and the pauses which Marcantonio found irritating, because theyseemed to indicate hidden meanings to be unraveled, might proceed onlyfrom his effort to carry several trains of thought at once; but it was ahabit of the elder Giustinian which held not a less share in theeducation of his son because it was distasteful to him. 

To-day the young patrician almost resented this persistent marshaling ofthe shades of his ancestors, though at heart he was proud of them, andthe prestige and luxury of his surroundings suited him well; but hechafed under his father's scrutiny, which, it seemed to him, unveiledthe differences of their temperaments to an almost indecorous degree. The thought of Marina was tingling in his pulses, but he would not yieldit up until the propitious moment came; and the strong consciousness ofthis sweet new queenship made the constant assertion of the sovereigntyof Venice not easy to endure. But the remembrance of his vow ofallegiance, just rendered before the Senate, returned to him rather asthe public investiture of his rights as a man than as a claim ofself-surrender; and he vowed to himself to use that right, in allpossible conflict between himself and the Republic, in questionspersonal and dear; for the pleasant freedom of his life thus far hadleft him less in awe of the senatorial majesty than GiustinianGiustiniani would have deemed possible. But how could he hope to win hisfather's consent to any unpatrician alliance!

He passed the elder Giustinian hastily and paused beyond the next groupof armor--battered breastplates, casques, and shields of the twelfthcentury--but his thoughts were elsewhere. 

"These, " said the Senator, inexorably recalling him, "were of the famoussiege of Lepanto, where, but for the favor of the Holy Father, our househad been extinct. "

The young fellow's soul stirred within him, for he knew the story well. How was it possible for a Giustinian to pause before this great stand ofantique trophies of prowess and not call to mind visions of heroism andsuffering in which the Giustiniani of those days--_every one whobelonged to Venice_--had yielded up his life in this great struggle withthe Turks!

Yes, every one who belonged to Venice. For the young Nicolò, the lastsurvivor of their ancient name, was already set apart from the world byhis priestly vows, amid the quiet groves of the island of San Nicolò. Itwas a pretty romance--all those noble councillors, trembling from fearof the extinction of this most ancient and princely house, framinghumble petitions to the Holy Father; the youthful monk, leaving thetranquil solitude of his island sanctuary, unfrocked with honor by aPope's decree, to don the crimson robe of senator and wed the daughterof the Doge! And later, when sons and daughters many had risen up tocall them blessed, the old haunting charm of the convent reassertingitself, the return of the Giustinian--this solitary link between thelong lines of his noble house, before and after--to his lonely cell onSan Nicolò; the retirement of the Lady Anna from the sweet motherhood ofher home to reign as Lady Abbess in the convent of Sant' Elenà; thenimbus of sainthood for the pair when their quiet days were closed--itwas a pretty story, leading easily to thoughts of Marina. 

"To-morrow, " said Giustinian Giustiniani, as if in answer to histhoughts, "at dawn of day, there will be Mass in the capello Giustinianion Sant' Elenà; and later we must visit the shrines of San Nicolò andSan Lorenzo. For in the Church also we have had our part. A Giustinianwas first Patriarch of Venice; a saint was father to our else brokenline--we have had our share in Church and State, and it behooves amember of the Consiglio to remember the honors of his house. "

He stood for a moment looking up at the shield on which were blazonedthe arms of the Giustiniani, as if he missed something that should havebeen there; then, slowly turning back to the central court, now floodedwith sunshine, he began the ascent of the grand stairway which led tothe banqueting hall. The gleaming marble panels bore a fretwork ofsculptured foliage with symbols entwined--the mitre, the cross, thesword--in richest Renaissance; but in all the decorations of this lordlypalace, of the most ancient of the Venetians, not once did the mightyLion of St. Mark appear. 

When they had reached the landing opening into the banquet hall theSenator, turning in the direction of his own apartments, released hisson with a motion of his hand toward the great, splendid chamber fromwhich issued ripples of girlish laughter; and Marcantonio stood for afew moments under the arches which opened into it, looking onunobserved, for here it seemed that the fête was already reigning. 

The noble maidens who attended the Lady Laura, fresh and charming, wereknotting loops of ribbon in pendant garlands or grouping flowers ingreat vases between the columns which crossed the chamber from end toend--darting up the stairway to the gallery to alter a festoon ingarland or brocade. Sallies of laughter, snatches of song, and peltingof flowers, like a May-day frolic, made the work long in the doing, butfull of grace; and now and again, as if any purpose were wearying forsuch light-hearted maidens, they dropped their garlands and glided overthe polished floor, twining and untwining their arms--a reflex in activelife, and not less radiant, of the nymphs of Bassano on the paintedceiling, between those wonderful, gilded arabesques of Sansovino. 

There was a little shriek of discomfiture as they suddenly perceived theyoung lord of the day, but the Contessa Beata Tagliapietra came saucilytoward him as he was escaping. 

"The Lady Laura hath charged me to ask the Signor Marcantonio whetherthe garlands be disposed according to his liking. "

She swept him a mocking reverence, so full of grace and coquetry thatthe maidens all flocked back from their hiding-places to see how theyoung signor would receive it. 

"I know not which pleaseth me best, " he answered lightly; "the grace ofthe garlands, or the grace of the dance, or the grace of the _damigelle_who have so wrought for the beauty of this fête. Nay, I may not enter, for the Lady Laura will await my coming. "

"Is this day then so full of gravity that one may not steal a moment todance at one's own fête, Signer Consiglière?" she retorted, mockingly. 

But the Lady Laura herself was coming toward them, with slow, statelysteps, hiding her impatience--for the morning had seemed long. 

At sight of her Marcantonio bent his knee with the knightly homage stillin vogue, and gave his hand to conduct her to her boudoir. 

"Signer Consiglière, "--she began, with a stately congratulation, whenthey were quite alone in her own boudoir; she had been planning, duringthe long morning, a speech that should be of a dignity to suit so greatan occasion, but the words died away upon her lips; for once she forgotVenice and the Ca' Giustiniani, and the mother was uppermost. She foldedher arms about him closely, and rested her head upon his shoulder indelicious abandon. 

"Marco, my boy!" she murmured. 

His heart overflowed to her in unaccustomed endearments, so rarely didshe express any emotion, and to-day the rebound from the morning'srepression filled him with hope and gladness. All fear of winning heraid was lifted. "_Madre mia_!" he cried, his face radiant withhappiness. 

"This day is not as other days, " she said, half in apology for herweakness, as she recovered herself. 

"I have a gift for thee, madre mia; let me bring it. "

"I need no gift, Marco; for now hast thou everything before thee--everyhonor that Venice may offer to a Venetian of the Venetians! Forget itnot, my Marco. "

But he had already flown from her, with impatient, lover's footsteps. Now that the moment had come he could not wait. 

"Mother!" he cried, with shining eyes, as he placed the costly case upona table and drew her gently toward it. 

She stood in mute astonishment before the faultless gift, this perfectbit of Beroviero crystal, --opalesque and lucent, reflecting hiddenrainbow tints, enhanced by the golden traceries delicate andartistic--the beautiful young face framed in those sea-gems dear to theVenetian heart, each pearl a study of changing light. 

"There is none like it in Venice!" she exclaimed; "nor hath there everbeen. Thou hast treated me like a queen, my Marco!"

"I wished it so, " he answered impatiently, for he could not wait. "Andthe face----"

"Never hath there been a more exquisite! It is the Titian's work?"

"Nay, of the Veronese; for the goblet is of mine own designing. And themaster, for my sake, hath spent himself upon the face. "

"He will be here to-night, and we will thank him, " she answeredgraciously. "And for thee--thou hast excelled thyself. "

But Marcantonio answered nothing to her praise; his eyes were fixed uponthe miniature of the Veronese. 

"If Paolo Cagliari findeth none so beautiful among the noble damigellewho will grace thy fête to-night as this face which he hath painted, wewill forgive him, " she said playfully. "But thee, Marco, we will notforgive. The time hath come when thou shouldst choose; thy father and Ihave spoken of this. "

She came close to him and folded his hand caressingly. "The ContessaBeata Tagliapietra hath a wonderful charm; and there is the LadyAgnesina Contarini--a face for a Titian!"

"Mother! I pray thee----" Marcantonio interrupted. 

"Nay, Marco--to-day it is fitting; for thy wedding should follow soonupon this fête. Thou art no longer a boy, and Venice looks to us to helpthee choose a fitting bride; for there is none other of this generationof thy name, and thou, --I will not hide it from thee since thou needestheartening, --thou wilt be a fortunate wooer with these maidens, or--orelsewhere. But my little Beata is charming-----"

"Mother, " said Marcantonio, flushing like a boy, yet drawing himself upproudly, "I have already crowned her who shall be my bride with pearls;and for her face--thou hast named it exquisite. " Then, unbending, hethrew his arms around her and kissed her on the forehead. 

The Lady Laura stood as if petrified. 

"I know her not, " she said, when she could speak. "Name her to me. " Hervoice was hard and strained. 

"Do not speak so, madre mia! Love her--she is so charming! And she willnot come to me unless thou love her too. "

"How, then--if she is thy bride?" The words seemed to choke her. 

"Nay, but my _chosen_ bride--holding my vows with my heart; yet, unlessthou plead with me for my happiness she will not wed me--she is soproud. "

"Name her, " the Lady Laura repeated, unbending slightly. 

"Marina Magagnati. "

She stood listening, as if more were to follow, then she shook her head. "I know not the name, unless--but it is not possible! She is not ofVenice, then?"

"A Venetian of the Venetians, my mother, with the love of Venice in hersoul--but not----"

"Marcantonio, explain thine enigma! How should there be a name of allour nobles unknown to me?"

"There are nobles of the 'Libro d'Oro, ' my mother, and--nobles of thepeople, and she is of these. "

"How canst thou name a mesalliance to me--Marcantonio Giustiniani, Nobile di Consiglio--on this day, when thou hast given thy vows toVenice! Thou dost forget the traditions of thine house. "

"Nay, mother; Venice and the Ca' Giustiniani I am not likely to forget, "he answered, with sudden bitterness. "One thing--quite other--am I muchmore likely to forget; but for this have I sworn, that which my heartteaches me for noble will I do, and she whom I love will I wed--or noneother. "

"Marco!" the word seemed a desperate appeal. 

"That do I swear upon this sword which my father hath given me to provemy knighthood--'to enrich, ' he hath said, 'the records of our house. 'And thou wilt help me, my mother, for I love thee!" His voice had growntender and pleading again. 

"I also love thee, Marco, " she answered more gently, for none couldresist his voice when this mood was upon him; "but I may not help theeto undo thyself and forget the honor of thine house. "

"Mother, " said Marcantonio, sternly, "charge me with no unknightly deed!To love Marina is to love a woman nobler than any of thy maidens; thouknowest her not. I would bring her to thee to win thee, but she will notcome. It is thou, she saith, who must send her sign of favor. "

"I fear me it must be long in going, my Marco; yet I love thee well. Howshould I send my favor to a daughter of the people!"

"Those are the words of Marina Magagnati. "

"She is wise then; she will help thee to forget. "

"The vow of a Giustinian is never broken; that hast thou taught me, mymother, from the legends of our house. This sword, upon which I havesworn it, I lay at thy feet. Bid me raise it in token of thy favor andof thine aid in this one thing which I ask of thee. "

They stood looking into each other's faces, her pride melting under theglow of the beautiful new strength in the face of the son whom she hadthought so yielding; yet it was she who had striven to teach himknightliness. 

She hesitated, --"If I cannot aid thee, what wilt thou do?"

"I must wait and suffer, " he said; "for Marina will not yield. "

"It is new for a maiden of the people to know such pride, " she answered, scornfully. 

"It is because none are like her, and her soul is beautiful as her face!My mother, there are none prouder in all this palace; the littleContessa Beata is a _contadina_ beside her! Yet, it is not pride, Ithink, but love and care for my happiness, " he added, grown suddenlybold. "She will not come to bring me sorrow; and she hath said that myduty being to Venice, she can wed me only with the consent of our house. And Messer Magagnati----"

"There is a father, then, who would treat with thee?"

"Mother--use not that tone; thou dost not understand! Ask the Veronese. Messer Magagnati knows not of this; for so tenderly doth his daughtercare for him that, to save him pain of knowing that she suffers for lackof thy welcome, she hath not told him. Shall the Veronese plead withthee better than thine own son? For he knoweth the maiden well; and thefather, who is most honorably reported in Venice for the wonder of hisdiscoveries in his industry of glass. He is of the people--of the'original citizens'--for of the days before the _serrata_[1] hath hisfamily records; but he might well be of the Signoria, so grave he is andfull of dignity. And his name is old--_Mother_!"

 [1] An important constitutional act, limiting the aristocracy to those families who had at that period, sat in the Council; always referred to as an era in Venetian history. 

"Nay, Marco, lift thy sword; how should it lie there for lack of thymother's favor? I will not have thee suffer, if I can give thee aid. Butone may suffer in other ways--quite other--which thou hast no knowledgeof, for to thee there seemeth to be, in all the world, nothing worthybut this wish of thine! But it is no promise; one must ponder in sogreat a matter, my boy!"

They broke down in each other's arms, clasping the sword between them. 

The Senator's firm step resounded on the marble floor; they had scanttime to recover themselves; but his eyes fell at once upon themagnificent goblet, and there was pleasure in his stern face. 

"This, then, is of thy designing, Marcantonio, " he exclaimed, as hestooped to examine it in its case of satin and velvet. "A veritablegift-piece! And already thou hast won the favor of the Senate, since ithath been reported to them by our Chief of the Ten, who hath theindustries of Murano in charge, that at the exhibit given yestere'en agoblet more sumptuous than that prepared for his Majesty of France wasof thy designing. The Secretary will bring thee this night a summonsfrom the Ten to appear before them on the morrow to receive theircongratulations, because of the inspiration thou hast given to our mostvalued industry. 

"It is a rare mark of favor that it hath been confided to me, "Giustinian continued, still examining the goblet with pride, "sincecustom doth require that one should withdraw from the sitting of theCouncil when any matter touching his house is treated. But Morosini, bygrace of the Signoria, hath been with me for a moment, that there may beno misgivings of fear upon this fête-day of our house. And to-night thissummons to favor shall be presented, to honor the youngest member of theConsiglio. Marcantonio, I am proud of thee; the Ten will be here--everyone! And verily the goblet is beautiful. It shall be well displayed inthe great banquet hall. "

"Here, in my boudoir, where my boy hath placed it, " said the motherquickly, as the Senator would have lifted it, "since it is my gift. And, Marco"--She turned to him a face softened and beautified by thestruggle, which had been very great, and her eyes were deep with a lightwhich bound him to her forever. 

"Marco mio, it shall be well displayed. For I will bid my maidens circlethis table whereon it rests with a wreath of roses--white and verybeautiful--in token of thy mother's favor. "

X

Marina, under the yellow glare of the lamp in the dark oak cabinet, worked fitfully, with broken, lifeless strokes, at the designs beforeher; while her father, feigning absorption in some new drawings whichlay spread out within touch of his strong-veined hands, watched herfurtively from the other side of the table. 

"Thou art restless, " he said, suddenly and sternly; "what aileth thee?"

Her lip quivered, but she did not look up, while with an effort shesteadied the movement of her hand and continued her work. "My hand hathno cunning to-night, and it vexeth me, my father. "

"It is poor work when the heart is lacking, " he answered, in a tonecharged with irritation. "I also have seen a thing which hath taken myheart from me. "

The color deepened in her cheeks and the pencil strokes came morefalteringly, but she answered nothing. 

"Nay, then!" he exclaimed, more brusquely than his wont, as he stretchedout his hand and arrested her movement. "What I have to say to theeimporteth much. "

She flushed and paled with the struggle of the moment, then a beautifulcalm came over her face; she laid down her pencil and, quietly droppingher hands in her lap, she turned to him with a smile that might havedisarmed an angrier man--it was full of tenderness, though it wasshadowed by pain. 

It relaxed his sternness, and, after a moment's hesitation, he camearound the table and sat down beside her. 

"To-night is the fête at Ca' Giustiniani, for the young noble of theirhouse. "

He waited for her to speak, but she did not tremble now, though he wassearching her face. 

"Yes, father, I know. "

"And, Marina--I do not understand--and it is a grief to me----"

She nestled to him closely and tried to slip one of her slender handsbetween his, which were tightly strained together in a knotted clasp, asif he would make them the outlet for some unbearable emotion. 

The previous evening was the first they had not passed together sincethe death of Zuanino; her father had sent her word that he had matterwhich would occupy him alone, and all day Marina had been heavy-hearted, going at matins and at vespers quite alone to the Madonna at the Duomo, that she might take comfort and counsel. 

Girolamo did not respond to her caress, though his tone softened alittle as he proceeded with his tale and her arm stole round him. 

"Yesterday, at the stabilimento Beroviero, we were summoned by a call ofour Capo of the Ten to witness the approval that should be passed on theexhibit of that stabilimento; we all, of the Guild of Murano, were thereas always. And foremost among the productions, most marvelous forbeauty, was a fabric of their lucent crystal--thou knowest it, Marina?My child--how came thy face there? _Thy_ face, Marina--set round withlustrous pearls!"

He folded her to his breast with sudden passion, and stooped his head toher shoulder for an instant, lifting it quickly that she might not feelthe sobbing of his breath which, even more than his broken words, betrayed his anguish. 

"Dearest father, it was because I loved thee so much that I would nothave thee suffer from my pain, that I told thee not. Never again will Ihold aught from thee. "

"Thy pain, Marina? and thy face--and for the young noble, Giustiniani? Ido not understand. "

"Father, because I could grant him nothing and he would give meeverything, and because--because God sent the love and the Madonna hathmade me feel that it would be sweet, I granted him only this--myportrait--because he pleaded so one could not resist; and because hesaid it would win the consent of all to see that he treated me like aqueen!"

"Nay; one comes not in secret to steal the love of a queen. "

"My father, " answered the maiden proudly, for he had drawn away fromher, "there is no stealing of that which I would gladly yield him, if itwere thy pleasure and that of the Ca' Giustiniani! And there would havebeen no secret; but I--to spare thee pain of knowing that I suffered--Iwould not let him come to plead with thee. "

"Why shouldst thou suffer?"

"It is hard to lose thy love when only I told thee not because I wouldspare thee pain! Father--I have only thee!" Her courage broke in a quicksob. 

"Nay, then--nay, then, " he faltered softly, stroking her bowed head; "heis no man to love, if he would let thee suffer; he should takethee--before them all--if he would be worthy----"

The low, intense, interrupted words were a brave surrender. 

"Ay, my father, it is like Marco to hear thee speak!"

"Then let him come and make thee Lady of the Giustiniani, like a trueknight!" exclaimed the old man fiercely. 

"Ay, father, so would he; but I have told him that thou and I are notless proud than those of his own house, and without their consent it maynot be. "

"Nay, I care not for their house--only for thy happiness; he shall wedthee, and my home is thine; I have enough for thee and him; he shall notmake thee suffer. "

They were close together now, father and daughter--a beautiful group inthe yellow lamplight against the dark background that surrounded themlike an impassible fate; her face was a study of happiness, tenderness, suffering, and strength; her father wrapped her close in his protectingarms, and thus she could bear everything. They were silent for a while:he trying to accept the revelation in its strangeness, she planning howshe should make him understand. 

"I am glad thou knowest it, dear father, " she said at length, verysoftly. "I have thy love--I can bear everything. "

"Nay, thou shalt have nothing to bear! Thou shalt be Lady of theGiustiniani--what means the portrait else?"

"It is like Marco again!" she cried, with a little pleased laugh. "Hesaid--because I would make him no promise until all consented--that hewould take me thus before all the world, and that should make themconsent. "

"Nay, let him come out from his house and take thee! I also, of thepeople, bear an ancient name, and I have kept it honorable. Pietro, theearliest master of our beautiful art, was thine ancestor. The Giustinianstoops not in taking thee. "

"He is noble enough to be thy son, my father--and chivalrous asthou--but we are too noble to let him do aught unbefitting his noblehouse; for thou knowest the Giustiniani are like princes in Venice, andMarco is their only son. He oweth duty to the Republic; and this day, inthe Ducal Palace, hath he sworn his oath of allegiance. "

"First should it have been to thee!"

"Ay, first it was to me, " she answered serenely; "he would not have itotherwise; it is only _my_ promise that is lacking. This will I not giveuntil the Giustiniani make me welcome, or there would be no happinessfor Marco. He shall not lose, in loving me. The Signor GiustinianGiustiniani is so stern--and one of the Chiefs--I would not vex him andbring down the displeasure of the Ten; I would bring my Marcohappiness--not pain. "

"Oh, the courage of young hearts!" the old man exclaimed with a thrillof pride and amazement. "Never had Giustinian a prouder bride. Andalready thou hast won my heart for this lover of thine, who hath hopeof taking thee from thy old father, yet stays at thy bidding. "

"He hath said that he would be here ere the fête began, " she answeredtimidly, "since already, through the portrait, thou must know the truth;and it would seem unknightly, or as if he feared thy displeasure, if hecame not this day to pay thee his duty. Father, methinks there isalready a stir below----"

"Thou shouldst make thyself brave!" her father exclaimed, with a quick, anxious glance at her simple home toilette. "He will pass from thee tomany noble ladies in the palazzo Giustiniani--all in bravery offestival. "

"Nay, my father, so he found me; I would not hold him by devices, ofwhich I know naught. There will be much to suffer, and these triflescannot enter into anything so deep and real. I would rather he shouldchange to-day--if he could be light enough to change. Besides, " shefaltered, with a quick, charming blush, "I think it is already his stepwithout; and to-night he will have so few moments to spare me--Marco!"

Coming forward through the shadow of the doorway, the youngnoble--deferent, masterful, unrenouncing--was a suitor not easily to bebaffled by any claims of Venice. 

Girolamo turned quickly to his child, then looked away, for her facemade a radiance in the room; he, her father, who had loved her throughall the days of her maiden life with a great tenderness, had never knownthe fullness of her beauty until now; the soft folds of the simple robeflowing away from her into the surrounding shadow left the pure youngcharm of her head and face in luminous relief, as the brilliant youngnoble, in embroidered velvet and silken hose and jeweled clasps--a typeof sumptuous modern day Venice--stepped forward into the little circleof light, bowing before her with courtly deference. 

The vision of those youthful faces made it easy to forget the outwardcontrast--a mere accident of birth. 

Girolamo Magagnati had promised himself that he would be a true knightto his beloved child; he would question and prove this bold young noblewho claimed, with such presumption, so great a prize--not humbly suing, as he should have done; he would make him tremble and wait; he shouldlearn that his daughter was not to be the more easily won because shewas of the people! Then, with the fullness of his vow upon him, and witha heart loving indeed, but brave as proud, he had raised his eyes andbeheld a vision in which neither nobles nor people held part--only amaiden, glorified by her love and trust; and a lover--prince or peasantit mattered not--for on his face it was luminously written that in allthe world there was for him none other than she. And the vision, like anapprehension of Truth--rare and very beautiful--conquered Girolamo, because he was strong enough to yield. 

"It is but a moment that I have for this dearest claim of the day, " saidMarcantonio Giustiniani, turning to the older man with winning courtesy;"and sooner should I have come to the father of Marina to crave thegrace I cannot do without, but that she bade me tarry. Yet now--sheherself hath spoken?"

He looked from one to the other questioningly. 

"There are no secrets between us, " Girolamo answered with dignity, whileweighing some words that should welcome his daughter's suitor withdiscretion and reserve. 

But the maiden broke in timidly: "And he is not angry, Marco mio!"

"Nay, my favor is for him who truly honors my daughter and proveshimself worthy; for her happiness is dear to me. But the difficultiesare great, as she herself hath told me. "

"A little time and there shall be none!" cried Marcantonio, joyously. "For to-day, when first I have taken my seat in the Council, not moresolemnly have I sworn allegiance to the Republic than I would prayMesser Magagnati to bear me witness that Marina--and none other--will Iwed!"

"Give him thy hand, my daughter, for thy face confesseth thee; andto-day his lady should grant him so much grace. "

"Yet, Marco--for thy sake--I make no vows to thee. Only this will I tellthee, " she added, in a voice that was very soft and low, as he sealedhis lover's vow on her fluttering hand. "For me, also, there is noother!"

"And I bring thee a '_boccolo_, ' Marina, since thou art of the peopleand wouldst have me remember all thy traditions, " he cried gaily. "Yetthis one hath a fragrance like none other that hath ever blossomed onthe festa of San Marco--my blessed patron!--for I culled it from thegarland which my mother bade her maidens for a token make about thetable where thy portrait is displayed. "

He raised the rosebud to his lips before he placed it in her hand. 

"And the Senator Giustinian Giustiniani?" Girolamo questioned, in hisgrave, deep voice, concealing his triumph. 

But Marcantonio had already answered to the timid question of Marina'seyes, with a ringing tone of assurance. 

"And for my father--we must have courage!"

XI

The summons from the Ten had been presented with ceremony on the nightof the fête at Ca' Giustiniani, and Marcantonio was grateful for thestrong support of Paolo Cagliari's friendly presence, as they wenttogether to the Sala di Collegio in the Ducal Palace; for this seemed tothe young noble an opportunity, that might never come again, ofpresenting his petition to ears not all unfavorable; and there was athrill of triumph in the thought that his maiden speech before thisaugust body should be his plea for Marina's admission to the favor ofthe Signoria. Already fortune had been kind to him beyond his hopes, and, with the daring of youth, he was resolved to claim the possible. The Veronese alone knew of his intention, and as to his father--he couldonly put him out of his thoughts. If the Senate listened to his petitionthere would be no difficulties, but he would not weaken his courage byany previous contest, unavailing as it must be. 

Meanwhile there was the remembrance of the roses of the LadyLaura--fragrant with her great renunciation. 

The honor of this summons was reflected in the increased dignity of theelder Giustinian, and in a tinge of urbanity new to him, as he partedfrom Paolo Caghari and Marcantonio, who remained standing on the floorof the hall, to take his seat among the senators in the seats runningaround the chamber, as on the previous day, instead of the onerightfully his own among the higher Council who were to pronounce thelaudatory words. 

The industries of Murano had always been dear to the senatorial heart, but of late years the fostering care of the Republic had been increasedto an unprecedented degree, and the stimulus thus given to the workmenof Murano had been evidenced in a series of brilliant discoveries, sothat the marvel of their fabrics had become as much a source of jealousyto other nations as of revenue and pride to the Republic. 

Thus the affair of this gift-piece of crystal was deemed of quitesufficient importance to occupy the attention of the senators, whoprepared themselves to listen with every symptom of interest to thisreport of the exhibit of Murano, which had been read on the previous daybefore the Ten. 

It had chanced before that these reports had been followed by words ofcommendation, but it had rarely happened that a young noble had beensummoned before the Collegio to receive such a testimonial, and theoccasion lost none of its interest from the fact that many of thosepresent had witnessed the presentation of the summons in the banquethall of the palazzo Giustiniani. 

The famous goblet, by order of the Senate, was also present, as a proofthat the laudatory words pronounced by the Secretary of the Ten at theclose of the report were well deserved. 

It was not often that a member won distinction on the day of hisentrance to the Gran' Consiglio; the favor shown by the Senate wasgreat; the position of the Ca' Giustiniani among the proud Venetiannobility was beyond question; and some of the fathers of the young andnoble ladies who had graced the banquet watched the young Giustinianwith a quite personal interest. 

"It was time, " they said, "that the handsome young patrician shouldchoose a bride. "

"And once before, in the history of the Republic, as now, " suggestedanother, "there was but one of the Ca' Giustiniani. "

There was a sympathetic and ominous shaking of heads, for the story waswell known. 

"But to none of those golden-haired maidens who danced at his fête wouldhe show favor, though upon his birthnight. And when the Lady Beata hadasked him shyly why he wore a white rose in his doublet, he had told hersaucily, 'The meaning of the flower is _silence_. '"

These and other trifles bearing upon the ceremony of the morning werediscussed in pleasant asides, while the report had been read and thenote of approval had been proclaimed to Marcantonio, who dropped the armof his friend and came forward to receive it. 

"My Lords of the Senate, the Collegio and most Illustrious Ten!" heresponded, with a courtly movement of deference which included them all, "I thank you! In that it graciously pleaseth you to bestow upon me yourfavor for a trifle of designing which was the pastime of an hour, andmade for the pleasure of the giving in homage to the noble Lady LauraGiustiniani. But the praise of it should not be mine; it is rather tothe stabilimento which hath shown perfection in its workmanship. Butfirst to him, the master, who hath given it its crowning grace. I prayyou, let me share the unmerited honor of this commendation with PaoloCagliari, _detto Veronese_, without whom my little had been nothing!"

The chivalry and grace of the young noble elicited a murmur ofapprobation, as he courteously indicated his friend. 

The Veronese, to whom this _dénouement_ was unexpected, and who had longsince been crowned with highest honors by the Republic, did not moveforward, but, acknowledging the tribute of his pupil with a genialsmile, he stood with folded arms, unembarrassed and commanding, scanningthe faces of the assembly, well pleased with the effect produced by thewords of Marcantonio, whom, at all hazards, he intended to befriend. Herealized that the atmosphere might never be so favorable. 

"The crowning grace of that goblet, my Lords of Venice, " he said boldly, "is lent it by the face of the most beautiful maiden it hath ever beenmy fortune to paint--than whom Venice hath none more charming. "

There was a murmur of surprise from the younger nobles, who werestanding in groups about the hall of the Gran' Consiglio; they hadsupposed the face to be merely a dainty conceit of the artist's fancy, and those nearest gathered about the case with sudden interest. 

But the face of Marcantonio betrayed him, while he stood unabashed inthe circle of the senators, though with mounting color, his hand, undershelter of his cloak, resting upon the jeweled hilt of the sword uponwhich he had sworn his first knightly vow. 

Giustinian Giustiniani rose to his feet. "Her name, Messer PaoloCagliari!" he thundered. 

But it was the young Giustinian who answered to the challenge--"MarinaMagagnati!" with an unconscious reverence, as he confessed his lady'sname. 

"Is no face found fair enough among all the palaces on the Canal Grandeto charm thy fastidious fancy?" cried the angry father, losing allself-control. "It were fitter that the name of thine inamorata werefirst declared elsewhere than in this presence!"

"Not so, my father, " Marcantonio replied, undaunted. "For I first wouldask a grace of our most illustrious Signoria, --the which may it indeedplease them to grant, --or never shall I bring a bride to the Ca'Giustiniani. As I have sworn a noble's oath of allegiance to Venice, sofaithfully have I vowed to wed none other than Marina Magagnati! And itis my father who hath taught me to hold sacred the faith of a Venetianand a Giustinian. But my lady is not _called_ of noble blood. "

"She is daughter to Messer Girolamo Magagnati, "--it was the Veronese whospoke, --"than whom, in all Murano, is none better reputed for thefabrics of his stabilimento, nor more noble in his bearing; albeit, heis of the people--as I also, Paolo Cagliari, am of the people. "

The words had a ring of scorn; the Veronese folded his arms again andlooked defiantly around him--a splendid figure, with the jeweled ordersof France and Rome and the Republic flashing on his breast. His gazeslowly swept the faces of the assembly, then returned to rest upon thegreat votive picture which filled the wall from end to end above theDoge's throne--_his work_--like the glory of the ceiling, which declaredthe artist noble by genius, if not by birth. "I also am of the people!"he repeated, in a tone that seemed a challenge. 

"Most Illustrious Signoria!" cried Marcantonio; "once, in the history ofour Republic, hath it pleased this most gracious Senate to declare itsfavor to a daughter of a master-worker of Murano, in a decree whereby itwas provided that the maid should wed a noble of most ancient house, andif there should be children of the marriage, each name should standunprejudiced, with those of the nobles of Venice, in the 'Libro d'Oro. 'If I have found favor in your sight--I beseech you--that which theSenate hath once decreed is again possible. "

The senators looked at each other in consternation, awed at the boldnessof the petition and the wit of its presentation. 

The young patrician slowly ascended the steps of the dais, and closedhis appeal with an obeisance to the Doge, full of dignity. 

The Councillors who sat beside the Doge were holding grave discussion, for the few words of the young noble had touched upon weighty points;they had been presented with a simplicity which veiled their diplomaticforce; he was a man of growing power who must be bound to the serviceof Venice, even were he not the last of a princely line which theRepublic would fain see continued to her own latest generation. Sounabashed in such a presence, he would be tenacious of his purpose andhold to his vow with unflinching knightliness. 

Venice and his lady were included in his sworn allegiance, and to seekto make them rivals would be a danger for the Republic. 

Never before had appeal been made to this decree; it was not fresh inthe minds of the Savii and the six most venerated Councillors withoutwhose acquiescence the mandate of the Doge was powerless, and they hadlistened to the bold declaration with a surprise not unmingled withresentment, that so young a man should make, in their presence, anassertion touching matters of State which they could neither affirm nordeny! At a sign from one of the chancellors, one of the threecounsellors at law of the Avvogadori di Commun, who had the keeping ofthe Golden Book, had been immediately summoned from adjoining chambersin the Palace and had confirmed the statement. Such a marriage hadindeed taken place in the latter half of the fourteenth century; thenumber of the decree authorizing the full nobility of the children hadbeen noted in the Golden Book, the original decree could therefore befound, within the archives, upon demand of the Savii. 

The case had changed from a matter of gracious policy to one ofunquestioned importance in the minds of the gravest counsellors of theRepublic--in spite of the glamor of romance which threatened to lessenits dignity by winning the enthusiastic support of the younger membersof the assembly and the jealous opposition of the older senators, whowere tenacious of the privileges and restrictions of the ancientnobility of Venice. The faces of many among them were dark andthreatening. One of their number high in authority, whose seat was nearthe Savii on the dais, and who was known to be of the strictestoligarchical proclivities, risked the words, "_Remember the SerrataConsiglio_, " in a clear undertone, but was immediately repressed by aterrible glance from more than one of the commanding Savii. 

Giustinian Giustiniani was alone kept silent by the force of conflictingemotions which left him only strength enough to realize that he was tooangry to advise with dignity, though he was one of the Chiefs of theTen. He had been outwitted in the presence of the Maggior Consiglio by ason who had shown an astuteness and courtliness of which any Venetianfather might be proud, together with a knowledge of the point upon whichhe based his appeal, which required the summoning of the Avvogadori diCommun, though it was uttered in the presence of the six supremeCouncillors of the Republic! He could not interpose to demean hisancient lineage by consenting to this unpatrician alliance; he would notaccept the alternative for his only son--the last of the Giustiniani!Nor could he urge a Giustinian to break a vow of honor made before thehighest tribunal of the realm. He was trembling with wrath and filledwith admiration, while he sat speechless, awaiting the issue of aquestion which so deeply concerned the interests of the Ca' Giustiniani. 

The impression was profound, and a silence fell upon that magnificentassembly through which the rulers of the ship of state seemed to hearthe throbbings of a threatened storm. They were men of power, and theyrealized that it was a moment when action should be prompt and positive. 

A yellowed parchment, with the great seal of the Republic appended, wasbrought in state from the adjoining chambers of the Avvogadori and laidbefore the Doge, who passed it, in turn, to each of his Councillors. 

The silence was breathless. All eyes turned instinctively upon the youngnoble, who had withdrawn to the side of his friend, and stood, unconscious of their gaze, radiant with his hope of Marina. 

"Nobles of the Gran' Consiglio of our Most Serene Republic, " said theDoge at last with deep impressiveness, "this record is the originaldecree of this Senate, of the fourteenth century, given under the GreatSeal of the Republic in 1357. It hath been duly laid before ourCouncillors in your presence and unanimously confirmed by them. And theydo unanimously consent to this our ruling in favor of the petition whichhath this day been presented before this Council by the nobleMarcantonio, of the ancient and princely house of Giustinian. Since inthis sixteenth century our Republic, by grace of God and favor of herRulers, is not less enlightened than in those earlier days to perceivewhen graciousness may promote her welfare, in granting favor to a noblehouse which hath ever shown to Venice its valor, its discretion, itsunfailing loyalty. "

A cry of exaltation rang through the house like an electric thrill; thesenators started to their feet. 

"My life, my faith, my strength--the might of all my house for Venice!"shouted the young Giustinian, with his sword held high above his head, like an inspired leader. 

XII

The permission of the Maggior Consiglio, under favor of this imperiousgovernment, was equivalent to a command and a public betrothal, and fora few ecstatic days the heir of the Ca' Giustiniani went about in astate of exaltation too great to be aware of any home shadows--theslumbering anger of the Capo of the Ten and an inharmonious atmospherewherein each was intensely conscious of an individual estimate of thegreat event which touched them all so nearly. 

For suddenly the betrothal of this only son of an old patrician familyhad assumed almost the proportions of a State marriage; and a youngfellow for whom time-honored observances of the realm could be setaside, and who had won so extreme a proof of favor by his own wit andgrace, was surely a figure that might well occupy public attention. 

But the decree would soon be a state paper; it was already an acceptedfact in the halls of the Council and in the salons of the nobility, andthe disappointed great ladies from the neighboring palaces were calling, with curious questions decorously dressed in congratulatory form. 

"When should they have the pleasure of welcoming the _new_ Lady of theGiustiniani?"

"Was it not true that the Lady Marina--that was to be, " there was alwayssome little stinging emphasis in the gracious speech, "had given avotive offering to the convent of the Servi? She was a devotethen--quite unworldly--this beautiful maiden of Murano?"

"What a joy for the Lady Laura that so soon there would be a bride inthe Ca' Giustiniani!"

"The Lady Laura had never been more stately, " they told each other whenthey entered their gondolas again, "nor more undisturbed. There were nosigns of displeasure; it must be that the lowly maid was verybeautiful. "

"Was it a thing to make one sad, to have a son who could twist therulers round his little finger, and break the very laws of the Republic?Nay, but cause for much stateliness!" said a matron with two sons in theConsiglio. 

"The bridal must be soon, " said the Lady Laura to herself, as she satalone in her boudoir, "for the ceasing of this endless gossip. " And, because she could think of nothing else, she was already weary with theplanning of a pageant which made her heart sick. 

But Giustinian Giustiniani had no words, for the case was hopeless--onlya face of gloom, and much that was imperative to keep him in the CouncilChamber. 

For these few blissful days the lovers had heaven to themselves, floating about at twilight on the shores of the Lido, where there werenone to trouble the clear serenity of their joy by the chilling breathof criticism. "That white rose which I brought thee was in sign of mymother's favor, " Marcantonio reminded Marina more than once; "and forthe rest--all will be well; and for a little, we can wait. "

Ah, yes, they could wait--in such a smiling world, under a sky soexquisite, gliding over the opal of the still lagoons at twilight. 

But old Girolamo, sure now of the decree which should number hisdaughter among the patricians of this Republic where, through longgenerations, his family had made their boast that they represented thepeople, was in a feverish mood--grave, elated, sad by turns, unwillingto confess to the loneliness which was beginning to gnaw at his heart, for Marina was his life; he did not think he could live without her; he_knew_ he could not live and see her unhappy beside him; and he was oldto learn the new, pathetic part he must play--the waiting for death, quite alone in the old home. 

And those others, --in the sumptuous palace on the Canal Grande, --wouldthey prize the treasure which was the very light of his life, that heshould break his heart to yield her up?

He could have cried aloud in his anguish, as he sat waiting for thehappy plash of the returning gondola, the princely gondola of the Ca'Giustiniani, bringing those two before whom life was opening in a goldenvista; but as the slow ripples breaking over the water brought themnearer, his heart girded itself again with all his chivalrous strength, lest he should dim the glad light in his beloved one's eyes--lest heshould seem ungenerous to the brave young knight who had dared thedispleasure of his house and of the Republic for the love he bore hisdaughter. 

And the shadows in that other home, the palazzo on the Canal Grande, inthese days of waiting, were colder, hasher, --born of selfishness ratherthan love, of disappointed ambition perhaps, --but they were very realshadows nevertheless, obscuring the clear-cut traditions of centuries, out of which one should struggle through increase of pride, the otherthrough the broadening of a more generous love. 

Meanwhile the gondola floated in light--between shadow and shadow--soslight is the realization of the throes by which joy is sometimes born;and the pathos of the change which made their gladness possible was forthe two young people still an unrecognized note. 

But waiting was now over; more positive steps must be taken. TwoSecretaries had been sent from the Senate to bring the news of thefiling of the decree. 

"Madre mia!" cried Marcantonio eagerly, when they were gone; "it hascome even before our hope!"

"Even sooner than thy hope, " she echoed, feeling dreary, though he wassitting with his arm around her, as if for a confidential talk. 

But he was too happy to interpret her tone. 

"The token!" he pleaded; "for Marina--and thou wilt come to see howbeautiful she is!"

She looked at him searchingly. He did not mean to urge her; he seemedtoo happy to understand. 

She rose and going slowly to her cabinet brought him her token--a stringof great Oriental pearls. 

"These, " she said, sitting down beside her son and opening the case, "have I made ready for thy bride, since thou wert a little lad--at onetime one pearl, at another more, as I have found the rarest lustre. Someof these, they say, have been hidden in Venice since the time of John ofConstantinople, who left them for his ransom; it may be but a tale, yetthey are rare in tint; and I have gleaned them, Marco, since thou wert alittle lad, not knowing who should wear them--not knowing, Marco----"

She broke off suddenly, touching the gems wistfully, endearingly, withtrembling, tapering fingers. 

He laid his firm young hand upon hers lovingly. "How good thou art, mymother; how good to think of thy boy through all these years! But thypearls are superb--they will almost frighten Marina. Later thou wiltgive them to her. Mother, dearest, let me take this rose which thou hastworn, with thy little word of love--sweet mother----"

"They are fit for a princess, Marco, " she said, still toying with thepearls, apparently unheeding his request; "I chose them with thatthought--since they are for thy bride. "

"And she will wear them worthily, " Marcantonio answered, flushing, "andlike a queen, for none hath greater dignity, else could I not havechosen her--I, who have learned a lady's grace by thee, my mother!"

She drew him to her with sudden emotion, for these days had been veryhard for her. "My boy--my boy! Does she love thee well for all thy faithand devotion--for all that we are yielding her?"

"Madre mia, thou shalt see, if thou wilt let me take thee to her!"

"I had not thought--" she said, and stopped. "Would she not come withthee?"

Marcantonio walked suddenly away to a window and stepped out on thebalcony for a breath of air; he was beginning to comprehend the underside of his great joy, and it had come with a shock, on this very daywhich he had thought would have been filled with a rush of gladness. Hegrasped the cool marble of the parapet and tried to reason with himself;he suddenly foresaw that many days of reasoning had entered into hislife, and always he must be ready to meet them with cool wisdom, sinceenthusiasm was one-visioned. It was like taking a vow against youth, buthe himself had chosen it for his lot in life; his love was not less tohim, but the sudden realization had come that it was hard to fightagainst the traditions of centuries. Yet how bravely she, his mother, was trying to surrender her social creed for his happiness; it was not alittle thing that he had asked of her, but it seemed to him that hersoul had been nearer to her eyes than ever before during these days whenshe had been suffering. At all costs these women--his dearest in theworld--must love each other, must bless each other's lives. 

He went back with some comprehension of the barrier he had thought solightly to remove, with a vow in his soul to be more to each; because ofit neither should lose aught for his sake. He seemed suddenly older, though his face was very tender. 

"That which seemeth best to thee, my mother, in the matter of themeeting, Marina would surely do; for it is thou who must guard for usthese little matters of custom, which none knoweth better. But herfather--never have I known one more courtly, nor more proud----"

"Marco, it is much to ask that we should think of him!"

"Ay, mother, it is much. Yet if thou knewest him thou wouldstunderstand. For Marina is all the world to him, and I would take herfrom him. Yet so he loveth her that never hath he said me nay. Naughthath he asked for her of gold nor jewels, but only this--that she shallnot come unbidden to our home. "

He spoke the last words very low and with an effort, as if they held aprayer. 

"And so--?"

"And so, sweet mother, none knoweth half so well as thou how best togreet her whom I long to bring to thee, that she may know and love theeas she doth love her father--with a great love, very beautiful andtender. "

She looked up as if she would have answered him, but she could notspeak. 

"More than ever I think I love thee, now that I am grieving thee, " headded after a pause, in a tone so full of comprehension that it smoteher. 

"Nay, Marco--nay, " she said, and drew him closer, clasping her hand inhis. But they sat quite silent, while the mother's love intensified, displacing selfishness. 

He raised her hand to his lips with a new reverence. "In all this have Iasked so much of thee I think thou never canst forgive me, madre mia, until--until thou knowest Marina!"

She touched his hair with her beautiful white hand caressingly, as shehad often done when he was a little child; but now, in this suddendeepening of her nature, with a new yearning. 

"Marco, when thou wert a babe, " she said, "there was little I would notgive for thine asking. And now, when my soul is bound up in thine, Iseem not to care for the things I once sought for thee--but more forhappiness and love. Yet, if I go with thee--I seem to know thou wilt notchange to me--?" She paused, wistfully. 

"Save but to prove a truer knight!" he cried radiantly. "So more thangracious hast thou been!"

"Nay, it will be sweet to have part in thy happiness, " she criedbravely. "To-night, at sunset, will I go with thee, quite simply, in thygondola, to bid my daughter welcome--as our custom is. I will not failin honor to my Marco's bride! And since it is love that her fatherasketh, I will give her this rose, for thy dear sake. But the bridalmust be soon, to make this endless talking cease. And before we leaveher--for she will learn to love me, Marco mio, and she will not takethee from me?--I will give her the token that is fitting for a daughterof our house. "

 * * * * *

Among the members of the Senate, meeting by twos and threes in theBroglio, Marcantonio's name was often heard. "It would be well when thismarriage was over, for verily it was likely to turn the heads ofVenice--the pageant, and the beauty of the maid, and the favor of theCollegio----"

"Nay, not that, " said an older senator, resentfully; "those are buttrifles. But the young fellow himself is the danger; too positive andoutspoken, revolutionary and of overturning methods, withalpersuasive----"

"He would be a power in an ambassade, " suggested another, "for he hath agift in diplomacy and law which, verily, did astound the old Giustinian. The eloquence of his great-uncle Sebastiano hath fallen upon him. --If hewere not so young--! Here in Venice he is rolling up influence, and thecharm of his inamorata is also a danger; and already in the Consiglioall eyes are upon him. "

"For a secretary to an ambassade is the age not set, " answered the otherwarily, "and the office hath space for diplomacy, which, it were betterfor our privileges, were used elsewhere than in Venice. And the honor ofit would blind the eyes of his partizans--for the boy is young. "

The winds, wandering through the Piazza, sometimes blew lightestwhispers from the Broglio into the Council Chambers of the Republic; andso it was decreed that when the beautiful wedding pageant should beover, just as the whole of Venice would have laid itself at the feet ofthe charming bride--would have made the young nobles of the palazzoGiustiniani the idols of the hour--these dangers to Venice should behonorably removed by the appointment of Marcantonio Giustiniani, diMaggior Consiglio, as Secretary to the Venetian Resident in Rome, withthe gracious permission of the Senate for the Lady Marina to bear himcompany. 

"It is well, " answered Giustinian Giustiniani, as the Lady Laura madeher little moan on hearing of the appointment which the Senator reportedwith such pride. "Marcantonio hath the head of a diplomat and thebearing of a courtier. It is the way of distinction for such a man. "

"That is justly spoken, " said the mother; "and nobly hath our boyfulfilled our hope. In Venice, or elsewhere, must he ever windistinction. But to keep them in their palazzo near us--of this and oftheir happiness was I thinking--the sight of it is so beautiful. "

The filing of the decree of the Senate had acted like a charm upon ourCapo of the Ten: the importance thus accorded to the Ca' Giustinianisoothed every vestige of wounded pride, while the beauty and grace ofhis prospective daughter-in-law had filled him with a triumph which onlythe frigid stateliness of his habitual demeanor enabled him to conceal, so great was the revulsion from his former state of feeling. 

"I tell thee, Lady Laura, " said her husband, coming nearer and speakinglow, "we may well be proud. All this trifling in art and knickknacks inwhich it hath pleased the boy to spend himself, like so many of hishose, [2] hath fluttered off from him like silken ribbons hangingharmless in the wind, and hath left him with a head quite clear ofnonsense for the Senate's work. _That day_"--he had referred to it sooften that it had become an acknowledged division of time--"_that_ daywhen he made his speech not one arose to answer him; for the cunning ofit was so simple one listened, fearing naught, until the end wasreached; and the words of it were so few that the end was a surprise;and, lo! the Counsellors were confounded by the weight of his demand, and the reason for the justice of it, and the wit of itspresentation--lying folded in a sentence scarce long enough for apreamble! And the boy! Holding himself like a prince and winning themall by his grace, as if he were a child! Nay, but I do forget he is aman, wearing honors from his country!"

 [2] The young nobles were called "the gay company of the hose. "

"Giustinian, I fain would keep them here!"

"That is the woman's side of it, " said the Chief of the Ten, easilydismissing her plea. "But for Marcantonio the appointment is good. Whenthe late-returned Ambassador to His Most Christian Majesty did renderhis report before our Maggior Consiglio--an oration diplomatic and ofweight--I noted many of our graver men with eyes observing Marcantonioclosely, as they would mark how he weighed the speech of the olddiplomatist. "

"And Marco?"

"He seemed not to take note of them. Or it may be a grace that he hath, that he seemeth not to see; for he weareth the 'pensieri stretti e visosciolto'[3] meet for a Venetian councillor--age could not teach himbetter to guard his thought, but it would make the wearing of hiscareless face less easy. Or it may be that his mind hath space for thespeech only--one knows not! Save that all things come easily tohim--even the most beautiful bride in Venice, raised from the ranks ofthe people to suit his whim!"

 [3] Close-locked thoughts and open countenance. 

"Giustinian! She will be our daughter, and none need question herdignity and grace. "

"My Lady Laura, none knoweth better of her beauty and none so proud ofher as I, who had thought to hide my head for the disgrace of it! Butthe daring of this son of ours doth make me gay! I am ready to give theea compliment on thy bringing up, which often I had feared was overfrivolous. And now, he hath the Republic before him, where to choose. "

"Giustinian?"

She rested both hands on his shoulders and looked full in his eyes withthe gravity of her question which was the dream of his life, and wasoften tacitly touched, when they conferred together in confidence. 

"Ay, " he answered, "even that, the highest--by favor of San Marco--hemay win. For the grace of him maketh his head seem less. "

But the shadow of the coveted Lion's paw had suddenly overclouded himand changed his mood. 

XIII

When the first faint flush of dawn was waking in the east, the fair, sweet face of Marina of Murano was outlined for the last time, vague assome dream memory, against the deep shadows of the interior, between thequaint columns that framed her window. 

Birds were twittering in the vines of the pergola not far away;honeysuckles were pouring forth their fragrant morning oblations; andthe salt sea-breeze wafted her its invigorating breath as the earlytide, with slow, increasing motion, brimmed the channels that woundthrough the marshes on the borders of Murano and overflowed till thelagoon was a broad, unbroken vista of silver-gray, in whose shimmer andradiance, when the tide was at its full, the morning stars died out. Butstill they glistened dimly in the twilight of the sky to which sheraised her questioning, believing eyes. Life was always beautiful to herloving soul; for when the shadows held a meaning deeper than she couldsolve, her answer was faith; and now, that her new joy was to grow outof a deep solitariness for the father so tenderly beloved, it was he whoupheld her courage. 

"Life may not be, " he said, "without some shadow; this is the shade ofthine, which, without it, were too bright. Heaven hath some purpose inits sending, but not that it should darken our eyes to miss the joy. "

"The day will be o'er-lonely in this home, my father. "

"Nay, Marina, let love suffice; so shall we be always together! Shall Inot go to thee? And thou wilt come to me, bringing thy new interests andholding thy dear heart ever pure and loyal to Venice, and thy home, andthy God--not forgetting. For thou hast chosen with thy whole heart, mydaughter?" since she had not answered. "Thou dost not fear thyself?"

"Dearest father, " she had said, hiding her face in his tender embrace, "all of my heart which is not thine is wholly his--only my happiness istoo great. "

"Nay, daughter, since it is of God's own sending; take all the joy andgrieve not. "

"Only at leaving thee. "

"I would not keep thee here, to leave thee mourning and alone when mydays are closed. "

"Father!"

"Not to sadden thee, my child, but to show thee that life is linked tolife--God wills it so. Thou and I are bound to that which has been andto that which is to be. We do not stand alone to choose. The sweetnessof our life together should make it easier for me to yield thee to thefuller life which calleth thee. We must each bear our part in the beautyof the whole. For perfect love, there must be sacrifice. "

She was thinking of these things as she stood in the gray dawn waitingfor the beauty of the on-coming day, quite alone with her thoughts andwith her God, the giver of this beauty; and often as she had stood therewith her morning offering of trust and adoration, never before had theday-dawn seemed so full of mystery and promise, nor the new life whichthe morning held within its keeping so full of hope and beauty. The verytide, flowing round her island home, brought thoughts of her home thatwas to be, as it swept through the channels of the City of the Sea, pastthe palace where her lover was waiting, bringing murmurs and messages ofliquid harmony. The marsh grasses swayed and yielded to its flow, lending new depths of color to the water-bed, as they bowed beneath themasterful current--so the difficulties which had seemed to beset theirhopes had been vanquished by the resistless tide of his love andconstancy. 

The stars were lost in the deep gray-blue of the sky; a solemnstillness, like the presage of some divine event, seemed for a moment tohold the pulses of the universe; then a soft rose crept into the shimmerof the water and crested the snows on the distant Euganean Hills, thetransient, many-tinted glory of the east reflected itself in opal lightsupon the silver sea, then suddenly swept the landscape in one dazzlingglow of gold--and the joy-bells rang out. For to-day a festa had beengranted in Murano. 

Then, wrapping herself closely in the soft folds of her gray mantle, falling Madonna-wise from her head and shrouding her figure, she glidedfor the last time over the _ponte_ and down past the sleeping homes ofMurano; for it was yet early for matins, and she would have the Madonnaall to herself as she knelt with her heart full of tenderness for thedear life this day should merge in that other which beckoned her withjoyous anticipation--yet stilled to serenity by the golden glory andpromise of the dawn, and the beautiful, self-sacrificing, upholdingfaith of the great-hearted Girolamo. 

He had followed her and folded her passionately to his heart, as shecrossed the threshold of their home on her way to San Donato. "I must befirst, " he said, "to bless thee on thy bridal day. Fret thee not, forthou art bidden to a mission, since thou goest forth from the people tothe highest circle of the nobles. And love alone hath bidden and drawnthee. Forget it not, Marina! So shall a blessing go with thee and restupon thee!"

She had brought a gift to the Madonna of San Donato--an exquisite altarlamp of ivory and silver--and from the flowers which she had laid uponthe altar while she knelt in prayer, she gathered some to scatter overthe grave of the tiny Zuane. 

When Marina returned slowly through the little square, Murano was awake;the painted sails of the fishing-boats were tacking in the breeze, theactivities of the simple homes had commenced, women with theirwater-jugs were chatting round the well, detaining little ones clingingto the fringes of the tawny mantles which hung below their waists; a fewstopped her with greetings; here and there a child ran to hershyly--their mothers, from the low cottage doorways, calling to themthat "the donzel Marina had given them festa. "

Yes, there was to be festa in Murano. Girolamo had obtained from theSenate the grace of providing it. For now, since his daughter would haveno need of the gold which his industry had brought him, he might spendit lavishly on her wedding day to gladden the hearts of the people whomshe was leaving; for to him this bridal had a deeply consecrated meaningwhich divested it of half its sadness. 

The workmen of Murano were to have holiday, and a great feast was spreadfor them by Girolamo in the long exhibition hall of the stabilimenti, for which it had been needful to procure permission of the Senate; butfor once it suited well the humor of this august and autocratic bodythat one of the people should, for a day, make himself great among them. Thus for the inhabitants of Murano--men, women, and children--there wasa welcome waiting the day long in the house of the bride, where theyshould come to take her bounty and shower their blessings; for this timeonly Murano had no voice for _critica_--it was too busy incongratulation. 

When Marina reached her home she found it garlanded from column tocolumn with festal wreaths of green, while the maidens from the villagestill lingered, veiling the walls between the windows with delicatefrosts of fruit-bloom from the gardens of Mazzorbo. And closelyfollowing this village tribute came a priest from San Donato with theband of white-robed nuns who formed the choir of the Matrice, bearingperfumes of incense and benediction for the home of the bride, that allwho passed beneath its portal, going out or coming in, might carryblessing with their steps. 

In Venice also there were joy-bells ringing; and to overflowing tables, spread in the water-storey of the Ca' Giustiniani, the people of Venicewere freely bidden by silken banners floating legends of welcome abovethe open doorway. But now the expectant people were thronging thePiazza; the _fondamenta_ along the Riva was alive with color, balconieswere brilliant with draperies, windows were glowing with vivid shawls, rugs, brocades--tossed out to lean upon in the splendor that became afête; above them the spaces were crowded with enthusiastic spectators inholiday dress; the children of the populace, shouting, ecstatic, ubiquitous, swarmed on the quay below. 

The splendor of the pageant which brought a bride from Murano to thehighest patrician circle of the Republic--to that house which held itspatent of nobility from those days of the seventh century when anancestor had ruled as tribune over one of the twelve Venetian isles--waslong remembered, almost as a royal wedding fête, and for days before andafter it was the talk of Venice. 

They were coming over the water to the sound of the people's nativesongs and the echo of their laughter, the young men and maidens ofMurano, in barks that were wreathed with garlands and brilliant with theplay of color that the Venetians love. 

 "Maridite, maridite, donzela, Che dona maridada è sempre bela; Maridite finchè la fogia è verde, Perchè la zoventù presto se perde. "[4]

 [4] Marry, maiden, marry, For she that is wedded is ever fair; Marry then, in thy tender bloom, Since youth passeth swiftly. 

By the port of the Lido many a royal pageant had entered into Venice, but never before had such a procession started from the shores ofMurano; it made one feel fête-like only to see the _bissoni_, thosegreat boats with twelve oars, each from a stabilimento of Murano, wreathed for the fête, each merchant master at its head, robed in hislong, black, fur-trimmed gown and wearing his heavy golden chain, theworkmen tossing blossoms back over the water to greet the bride, therowers chanting in cadence to their motion:

 "Belina sei, e'l ciel te benedissa, Che in dove che ti passi l'erba nasse!"[5]

 [5] Beautiful thou art, and may Heaven bless thee, So that in thy footprints the grass shall spring. 

A cry rang down the Canal Grande from the gondoliers of the Ca'Giustiniani, who were waiting this sign to start their own train fromthe palazzo; for the bridal gondolas were coming in sight, with _felzi_of damask, rose, and blue, embroidered with emblems of the Giustiniani, bearing the noble maidens who had been chosen for the household of theLady Marina, each flower-like and charming under her gauzy veil oftenderest coloring. It was indeed a rare vision to the populace, theseyoung patrician beauties whose faces never, save in most exceptionalfêtes, had been seen unveiled beyond their mother's drawing-rooms, floating toward them in a diaphanous mist which turned their livingloveliness into a dream. 

The shout of the Giustiniani was echoed from gondola to gondola of thewaiting throng, from the gondoliers of all the nobles who followed intheir wake, from the housetops, the balconies, the fondamenta, mingledwith the words of the favorite folk-song:

 "Belo zè el mare, e belà la marina!"[6]

 [6] Beautiful is the sea, and beautiful the marsh. 

It was like a fairy dream as the bridal procession came floating towardSan Marco, in the brilliant golden sunshine, between the blue of thecloudless sky and the blue of the mirroring sea, each gondola garlandedwith roses, its silver dolphins flashing in the light, and in the midstof them the bark that bore the bride. The stately pall of snowy damask, fringed with silver, swept almost to the water's breast, behind thefelze of azure velvet, where, beside her father, sat the bride, in robeof brocaded silver shimmering like the sea--a subtle perfume of orangeblossoms heralding her advance. 

Once more the shout went up--the quaint love-song of the people--

 "Belo zè el mare, e belà la marina!"

and then a breathless silence fell, for the bark of the ministeringpriest of San Donato had taken the lead, the white-robed nuns of theMatrice grouped about him, chanting as they approached some ancientwedding canticles of benediction. The bissoni parted and came nofurther, having brought their maiden from Murano with every sign of loveand honor; the barges of the people fell back behind them, and throughtheir ranks the bridal gondolas followed the bark of the priest of SanDonato to the steps of the Piazzetta, where the train of theGiustiniani, in a magnificence that was well-nigh royal, had justdisembarked, and Marcantonio stood bareheaded among the nobles toreceive his bride. 

But it was only for a moment of recognition in the sight of thethronging people, for messengers were arriving with greetings from theDoge, which this bride, whom the Senate had taken from the people tobestow upon a noble, must receive from the lips of the Prince himselfbefore the wedding ceremony should take place; so the train ofGiustiniani, with all the nobles of Venice--who, from immemorial custom, had come together to witness and rejoice over this great event in thelife of one of their number--entered San Marco by the great doors of thePiazza; while the bride, obeying the gracious summons of the Doge, passed through the gate of the Ducal Palace on the seaside, into thegreat court where the Signoria were descending the Giant's Stairway ontheir passage to the ducal chapel. 

The ceremony of presentation to the Serenissimo was quickly over, andthe bride and her maidens, with Girolamo Magagnati, in sign of thePrince's favor, followed the Doge and suite into the golden looms andshifting twilights of this place of symbolism and wonder, where the vastthrong waited in a solemn hush. 

The gloom was broken by countless tongues of flame from lamps of silverand alabaster burning in the farther chapels, while wandering lightsstreaming through the openings of the dome filled it with wonderfulwaves of color--only half-revealing the treasures of ivory and jewelsand precious marbles and mosaics, wrought with texts and symbols, butwholly making felt the mystery and beauty. The vague perfume of thosefaint mists of floating incense, crossing and recrossing the scatteredrays of sunshine, mingled with the fragrance of the orange blossoms fromwhich the light tread of the bride-maidens seemed to crush a breath ofbenediction. 

Coming out of the sunlight into this still, beautiful, holy place--thechant sweet and sacred accompanying her steps, with the Cross repeatedagain and again in the heights of the domes, with the dear familiar formof the Mother Mary on every side lifting adoring eyes to the crowningfigure of the Christ, while the saints who graciously leaned to her fromtheir golden backgrounds in the great vaulted spaces above recalled thelegends inseparably linked with their intimate friendly faces andbrought back the atmosphere of her own Matrice--her mother church--thismaiden of Murano felt suddenly at home. 

The Patriarch with his pomp, the Signoria and Senate in their robes ofstate, the nobles and the pageant were all forgotten. In the sacramentallights of the ceremonial candles of the great altar, flashing back fromthe marvelous _Pala d'Oro_, she saw only Marco waiting for her--to whomher father, beloved and trusted, was leading her with her heart'sconsent. 

How should she falter on the path from love to love!

XIV

But even in Venice--the magic city--there were days of mists, silveryand gray, when life took on the indistinctness and indecision of adream; as there were days less lucent, when sea and sky melted in anindistinguishable line and the chameleon tints of the marshes mellowedinto a monotonous gray surface--when the wonted brilliancy of the sunsetclouds, and the glittering domes and campaniles were only faint grayshadows on the gray whiteness of the waters. And gondoliers camesuddenly into vision, parting the mists with thin, black, swayingoutlines, as quickly fading in the near, gray distance when they passed, while the shipping loomed like phantoms on an immediate horizon, vanishing, vision-like; and even the sounds of life came muffled overthe still lagoon, like ghostly echoes from a city wrapped in dreams. 

These were days of dim forebodings, too, for the anxious men of actionwho ruled the Republic. In the Broglio there was more often silence thanspeech, as the older senators gathered in knots, with faces the moreexpressive because of much reticence in words; the sense of approachingcontest increased their mental restlessness and made them outwardly morestern. Each looked into another's stormy, resolute face, so passing manya counsel whose echoes he feared to start under the rambling porticoesof the Piazza, where friars of every order mingled freely with thecrowd, and idlers carried tales into dark, basement recesses, and oneknew not which was friend or foe. Meanwhile the Winged Lion, with thoseterrible, jeweled, glaring eyes, and the primitive patron SanTeodoro--each high on his column, in a Nirvana of quiescence--keptsolemn semblance of vigil over that dread space where sometimes a horrorof which one dared not speak scattered the sunshine high in air betweenthose silent wardens of San Marco. Yet the horror of those figuresswinging lifeless, with veiled faces, was met in silence by a peopletrained to suffer this secret meting out of penalty for transgressionsin which justice and vengeance stood confused. 

The ceaseless chains of elections had begotten bribery, corruption, andstrife; the over-weening luxury had fostered unworthy ambitions--it wasa time of much lawlessness. Under the shadow of the embassies infamousintrigues were planned by bands of idle men, who shrank from no deed ofevil which held its promise of gold; the water-storey of some splendidpalace might be a lurking-place for unprincipled men--spies andinformers by profession--who wore the liveries of noble families whosesecrets they would unhesitatingly consign to that merciless _Bocca delLeone_, for favor or vengeance of those they secretly served. Forunderneath the glitter and the pomp of these latter days of Venice--itspresage of decay--a turbulent mass of malcontents, foreignersdisappointed in intrigue, Venetians shut out from power, grasped andplotted for its semblance, --sold murder for gold, treason forgold, --escaping justice by the wiles they so deftly unveiled, or by theimportance of the deposition it was in their power to make. Secret, swift, relentless, absolute--Venice had work for men who did not courtthe sunlight; and such a nucleus drew to its dark centre intriguers fromother courts, and gathered in and strengthened the worthless within itsown borders, until the evil was growing heavy to deal with. 

Causes of discontent between Church and State were alarmingly on theincrease; and while in no other dominion, save that of Rome alone, wereecclesiastical possessions so rich, or their establishments moresplendid than at Venice, nowhere were the lines of power so jealouslydefined and guarded as in the government of this Republic from whichecclesiastics were rigorously excluded, --although no least ceremonialwas held complete without the presence of the Patriarch and priests whoevidenced the devotion of Venice to the Holy Mother Church, --thoughevery parish kept its festa, and the religion of Venice was an essentialpart of the life of its people. But if the priests had no visible seatin the splendid Council Chambers of the Republic, they boasted at Romethat their sway over the consciences of these lordly senators was wellestablished by virtue of the confessional and that, in the event ofcontest, there would be many votes for Rome. 

The _ridotti_, the informal clubs of Venice in those days, wereimportant centres of influence--political, legislative, and literary;and there was a certain palazzo Morosini, well known to many of thesenators who gathered in the Broglio, where questions of vital interestto the thinkers and rulers of Venice were discussed with the degree ofknowledge that might have been expected from so eminent a company asthat which made the home of the distinguished senator Andrea Morosinithe scene of its ridotto, and where freedom of speech was much greaterthan seemed wise in the candid sunshine of the Piazza. 

Of its present numbers all, at some period of their lives, held highoffice under the Republic--they were senators, secretaries of state, ambassadors--and three among that little group of thirty lived to wearthe beretta. It represented essentially the patrician culture of Venice, and Morosini himself was already eminent as an historian; but the chiefliterary centre was still acknowledged to be that quaint house in CampoAgostino, of Aldo Manuzio, _il vecchio_, bearing, as in his day, shield-wise, its forbidding inscription, "Whoever you are, Aldorequesteth you, if you want anything, to ask it in few words and depart;unless, like Hercules, you come to lend the aid of your shoulders to theweary Atlas. There will always be found, in that case something for youto do, however many you may be. " But in this Aldine mansion only themost-learned men of letters gathered, and Greek was the sole languagepermitted in its discussions. 

One of the _habitues_ of the Aldine Club was chief among this noblecompany of the Morosini. He was a grave, scholarly man who listened andquestioned much out of a seemingly inexhaustible fund of historic, legal, and ecclesiastical knowledge--a man who had the power ofstimulating others, and whose rare word, when uttered, was of value. Hehad opinions gathered at first hand from influential minds of every landand creed to contribute to the talk when it flowed in narrowingchannels; and he himself came thither for refreshment from abstrusestudies, out of a quiet cell in the convent of the Servi, whileseemingly unaware that many a stranger begged for an invitation to thepalazzo Morosini in the hope of an introduction to this "miracle ofVenice. "

Perhaps this grave friar, apparently so careless of his distinction, wasthe unsuspected intellectual thread which bound, as it were, togetherthe various influential circles of Venice; for in every centre, plebeianor patrician, where there was anything new to be mooted or anything ofvalue to be discussed, he was a visitor so welcome and so frequent thathe might well have exerted a steady, unifying influence upon Venetianthought. 

At the sign of the "Nave d'oro, " in the Merceria, where the vastcommercial interests of Venice were the absorbing theme, and strangersfrom every clime and merchants just returned from distant ports wereeager now, as in the days when Marco Polo had so valiantly entertainedthe goodly company, to rehearse the tale of their adventures--it wasneither merchant nor noble who stood forth on the bizarre background ofbrilliant baubles and gold-woven tissues as the centre of this ridotto, but a friar, learned in languages and sciences, of whom it waspleasantly affirmed that "he was the only man in Venice who coulddiscuss any subject in any tongue!"

As this friar, unattended and on foot, turned out of the narrow callefrom San Samuele into the Campo San Stefano, the Giustiniani, father andson, were just landing from their gondolas in the midst of a gayretinue, on the steps of the palazzo Morosini; other gondolas of othernobles were floating in full moonlight before the quay; and to FraPaolo, who did not share the Venetian love of color and of art, theelaborately frescoed façade of an opposite palace--an extravagant freakof the Veronese's which the Venetians were already beginning to cherishas the work of their great artist who would paint no more--seemed animpertinence unworthy of that dazzling illumination. 

Marcantonio Giustiniani had but lately returned from Rome, where, duringhis residence as Secretary to the Venetian Ambassador, the affair of theVenetian Patriarch Zani, which had roused such indignation in Venice, had taken place. The matter was still of interest in official quarters, because the death of Zani had caused a new vacancy, to which Venice, according to her ancient right, had appointed the successor; and thisnew Patriarch Vendramin should never go, as Zani had done at the requestof the Holy Father, to receive his benediction and be met with thatperfidious announcement that he had "examined and approved the Venetiancandidate, " whom he now confirmed as Patriarch to the Most SereneRepublic!

At the thought of the manner in which they had been entrapped andoutwitted--denuded, as it were, before the Roman Court of somesemblance of their ancient privilege of appointing their ownPatriarch--there was fresh indignation among these proud patricians. Thesecretary Marcantonio Giustiniani had been present at the audiencegranted by Clement to the Venetian Patriarch. "He would know if it hadbeen possible--even with the most favorable intentions towardRome, "--they were crowding round him and questioning with jealouseagerness, --"even with the feeling which loyal sons should possess fortheir Mother Church--to interpret that rude cross-questioning of hisHoliness, so unexpected and unexampled and contradicting his ownexplicit promise--otherwise than as an examination--_an examinationwhich prejudiced the ancient right of Venice_?"

A scarcely perceptible smile flitted over the young secretary's handsomeface--they were so venerable and eager, so careful of shadows ofform!--and in a sudden side-light a hint of a question obtruded itselfon his consciousness, as to whether there could be a slightly farcicalaspect to such an episode between two most Catholic and Christiangovernments? He saw them both fired with feelings of very humanstrength, both dealing only with shadows of reality--the SovereignPontiff grasping at a semblance of power in insisting that thiscandidate, named by Venice to a see within her gift, to which he, thePope, would dare present no other, was invested by _his_ examination andapproval; and the Republic, receiving back its own appointee, confirmedwith the papal benediction, jealously aroused to unappeasableindignation by the empty form of questioning which had preceded thissingular ceremony. 

But the dignified company were pressing the young secretary for hisanswer, and one of them anxiously repeated the keynote, "_An examinationwhich prejudiced the ancient right of Venice_?"

"Courtesy and wisdom would render any other opinion inadmissible, "Marcantonio replied, --"in Venice. "

The elder Giustinian had detected the slight pause which preceded thelast two words. "Wherefore 'in Venice'?" he questioned, with some heat. "It is a question not of locality, but of justice and judgment. "

"It is a question of judgment, " Marcantonio echoed suavely, "upon which, it hath been told me, the Senate hath already passed a law that shallkeep our Most Reverend Signor Vendramin from such a fate. "

"Ay, never again may our Patriarch leave the Republic for confirmationof the see which she alone may grant. The law is just, " said the SenatorLeonardo Donate. 

"In the days when his Holiness was but an Eminence, it hath been said, he gave our ambassador a chance to prove his temper?" Morosiniquestioned of Donato, who had been ambassador in Rome while Paul V, whohad but just ascended the throne, was still Cardinal Borghese. 

"It was in the matter of the Uscocks, " Donato answered, after a moment'shesitation, seeing that some were waiting for the story. "And it was thesecond time that half-civilized tribe hath provoked disputes between twomost Christian nations. 'If I were Pope, ' said the cardinal, 'I wouldexcommunicate both Doge and Senate!'"

Fra Paolo scrutinized the faces of the listeners, and fixed his gazesearchingly on the speaker. There was an uneasy movement among thecompany, but Leonardo Donate did not flinch. 

"May they not know your answer, most noble Signor?" Morosini urged. "For, verily, it was of a quality to illumine a page of history. "

"The words were few, " said Leonardo, with dignity. "'_If I were Doge, Iwould trample your edict under foot_. '"

There was a sudden hush, in which those who had not been listeningbecame intensely conscious of the words just uttered by the aged andillustrious Cavalière Leonardo Donate, for there had been of late anabiding undercurrent of suppressed excitement ready to awake at anymention of Papal supremacy. The Republic had always jealously guardedagainst any transference of temporal power from prince to prelate, andmany events which seemed linked in a chain that might lead to the mostdeplorable results had succeeded to the election of Camillo Borghese asPaul V; the desire evidently manifested by Clement during his latterdays to encroach on the perquisites and possessions of the minor ItalianStates was crystallizing into a fixed purpose of ecclesiasticalaggrandizement on the part of the new Pope. 

"He was brandishing Saint Peter's sword before he had been knighted, "remarked the Signor Antonio Querini, who was deeply interested in alldisputes between Church and State. 

"But not before he had received strenuous training, " responded thegrave, clear voice of the friar. "For five years he hath held office asAuditor of the Apostolical Chamber, the style of which is written thus, _'Universal Executor of censures and sentences recorded both in Rome andabroad'_--a duty which he may be said to have discharged more faithfullythan any of his predecessors, as one cannot recall in any previous fiftyyears as many thunderbolts and monitions as were launched during thosefive years of his office!"

Some romance could but attach to the unswerving judicial attitude of afriar who had friends in high favor at the Court of Rome--who had knowna Bellarmino and a Navarro, and yet pursued, unchanging, the calm tenorof his critical way. It was rumored that Sixtus V had been known toleave his coach to converse with him, and would have given him, at hismere request, a cardinal's hat; that Urban VII, as cardinal and pope, had been his devoted friend; that Cardinal Borromeo--the saintly SanCarlo--had wished to attach him to his cathedral; and many were theinstances reported when marks of special appreciation had been grantedhim from Rome, in lieu of denunciations which those jealous of his rapidadvance had sought to bring upon him. Even the late Pope Clement hadexpressed admiration for his learning, while it was, nevertheless, wellknown that Fra Paolo's counsels to the Senate, in certain troublesarising out of Clement's attitude at Ferrara, had brought him therefusal of the bishoprics of Candia and Caorle; but, whatever theoccasion, he was invariably discreet and fearless. 

However pungent the tone, the words of this man could no more beattributed to personal bitterness than they might be influenced bypersonal interest; and although the opinion which they indicated was asurprise to some of the company, instinctively they felt the situationto be graver than they had feared, and the evening's talk drifted aswholly into the current of Church and State as if this ridotto were acommission appointed by the Ten to prepare resolutions upon thesituation. And the list of grievances now reviewed, which had occupiedthe Senate during the closing years of Clement's reign, was, in truth, long. Vast differences of opinion concerning the Turks and the piraticaltribes who infested the shores of Italy and the uses their villainymight be made to serve; troubles at Ferrara, teasing and undignified, temporarily brought to a close by the sending of the galleys of theRepublic to prevent the seizure of their fishing-boats by agents of hisHoliness; questions of boundaries and taxes; attempts to divert thetrade of Venice, to arrest improvements redounding not only to theadvantage of the Republic but to that of the neighboring country; toforbid, under pain of excommunication, all commerce with countriestainted with heresy. These were matters meet for discussion by temporalsovereigns touching the balance of power--so viewed and strenuouslyresisted by the clear-headed Venetians, with much deference of form, whenever practicable--as became loyal sons of the Church; butoccasionally, when nothing might be expected from temporizing, with aquiet disregard which proved their consciousness of strength. 

From time to time, as the informal summary progressed, there was anoutburst of indignation. 

"Could an aggression be more palpable than that _Index Expurgatorius_demanded by Rome in 1596, when the ruling doctrine of exclusion involvedno question of morality or irreligion, but solely concerned booksupholding rights of consciences and rulers!"

"It was a contest honorable to Venice, and one which Italy willremember, " responded a secretary of the Senate, who was a regular memberof this ridotto. "I am proud that it was my privilege to transcribe forthe records of the Republic the papers relating to that Concordat whichsecured so great a measure of freedom for our press. "

There had been a short truce between Rome and Venice since the accessionof Paul V, who had been so immediately concerned with a certain prophecyforetelling the death of a Leo and a Paul that his fears were only setat rest by a further astrological announcement, judiciously arranged inthe palace of his eminence the brother of the Pope, to the effect that"the evil influences were now conquered. " Whereupon Paul had undertakenin earnest the work which he conscientiously believed to be the highestduty of a sovereign pontiff, had recalled all nuncios not in fullsympathy with his views of aggrandizement, and had replaced them withenvoys whose notions of authority were echoes of his own; and, as anopening move, had made the demand, so resented by Venice, that the newPatriarch Vendramin should be sent to Rome for examination before hecould be allowed to take possession of his prelacy. 

"But what hath Venice to fear from a Pope who is paralyzed for the firsttwo months of his reign by a reading of a horoscope!" exclaimed one ofthe company scornfully. 

"Nay, then, " said Donato, who had seen much of the world; "it is a pettysuperstition of the age; it is not the fault of the man, who hathsterling qualities. And by that same potency of credulity have his fearsbeen set at rest. It is a proof of weakness to undervalue the strengthof an adversary--for so at least he hath recently declared himself onthis question of temporal power, by his petty aggressions and triumphsin Malta, Parma, Lucca, and Genoa. "

"I crave pardon of the Cavalière Donato, " Antonio Querini respondedhotly. "May one call the action at Genoa _petty_?--the compulsion of theentire vote of a free city, the placing of the election of the wholebody of governing officials in the power of the Society of Jesus?"

"And it was under threat of excommunication, which made resistance aduty from the side of the government, " Giustinian Giustiniani asserteduncompromisingly. 

"But impossible from the Church's point of view. It is the eternalquestion, " Leonardo Donato answered gravely. 

"_The solution is only possible by precisely ascertaining the limitswithin which each power is absolute_, " the friar announced, with quietdecision. 

A momentary hush fell upon the company, for the words were weighty and asurprise. 

"It is well to know the qualities we have to fear, " said AndreaMorosini, "and we have listened in the Senate to letters from ourambassador at Rome which bespeak his Holiness of a presence and adignity--save for over-quickness of temper--which befit a Pope; and thathe hath reserved himself from promises, to the displeasure and surpriseof some of those who created him. "

"It was rumored in Rome, " said the younger Giustinian, "that the learnedBishop Baronious, in the last conclave, by his persistence found meansto save the Consistory from the election by 'adoration' of anothercandidate whose life would bear no scrutiny and who never darkened thedoors of his own cathedral! By this election the Church hath verily beenspared a scandal. "

"Therefore, let it be known, " said Fra Paolo, with deep gravity, "lestthe nearness of such a scandal should breed confusion--and I speak fromknowledge, having been much in Rome--we have now a Pope blameless inlife; in duty to his Church most faithful and exemplary and concernedwith her welfare, as to himself it seemeth; of an unbending conscienceand a will most absolute; moreover, of marvelous reading in certaindoctrinal writings which seem to him the only books of worth, and withthe training of a lawyer wherewith to assert them. This is the man withwhom we have to contend. "

"Are there no faults?" thundered Giustinian Giustiniani, while theothers listened disconcerted. "A soldier seeks for weak spots in thearmor. "

"I know him, " said Leonardo Donato, "and there _is_ one fault. It limitshis power to achieve; it increases his absolutism. It isnear-sightedness--smallness of vision. "

"Draw him strongly, " said Giustinian, in a tone of concentrated wrath. "Let us measure our foe before we meet. "

"There are no books Borghese hath not read; there is no point of viewbut that which he doth teach, no appeal from the law as he interpretethit. _It is a fault of unity_. One power--the Church; one duty--itsaggrandizement; one prince--temporal and spiritual alike; one unvaryingobedience. All is adjusted to one centre; it is the simplification oflife!"

There was an ominous silence and an evident wish to change the theme, and the company readjusted itself by twos and threes. The SenatorMorosini turned graciously to Marcantonio. "It hath been told inVenice, " he said, "that the Lady Marina was received in Rome with marksof very special favor. "

"The introduction of our Reverend Father Paolo had preceded her, " theyoung secretary answered lightly, bowing in the direction of the friar, who sat apparently lost in thought. But Morosini repeated Marcantonio'sspeech with some amusement, for the scholarly friar had never been knownto have a friend among the women--old or young. 

"I do not understand, " he said, with no perception of any humor in thesituation. 

"It was the gift of the Reverend Father Paolo to the chapel of theServi, " Marcantonio explained. "The Madonna del Sorriso was well knownin Rome. "

"Ah, I recall now the face of your lady, though I have not known her, "the friar responded courteously, yet he hesitated a moment beforeaccepting the seat which the secretary rose to offer him. "If it is theface which the Veronese hath painted, her spirit must be fair. It shouldmake a home holy, " he added, after a moment's pause. 

Marcantonio's face flushed with pleasure. The friar was still regardinghim with a gaze so penetrating, yet apparently so guiltless ofintentional rudeness that it ceased to be an impertinence, and amusedthe young Venetian by its unconventionality. "Is there anything it wouldplease Fra Paolo to ask of me?" he inquired affably. 

"If there are children--" the friar pursued quite simply. 

"Our little son was baptized in Saint Peter's in Rome; he had sponsorsamong the cardinals and a private audience and benediction from hisHoliness, Pope Clement, " the young nobleman replied, trying to repress apleasurable sense of importance. "It was a pleasure to the LadyMarina--she is devoted to the Church, and his Holiness was always mostgracious to her. "

"As was fitting for the lady of a Venetian representative, and due toVenice, " the elder Giustinian hastened to explain, "his late Holinesswas ever courtly and a gracious diplomat. "

He had been aware from his little distance how the talk had turned, andhe was alert to give it the coloring he liked best. For while the youngpeople were still in Rome, Signor Agostino Nani, watchful as anambassador well might be of the interests of so princely a house, hadconfided to the "Illustrissimo Giustiniani, " in a private and friendlyletter, that courtesies so unusual had been extended to this nobleyoung Venetian lady--so devoted to the Church, so gentle andunsuspicious, so incapable of counter-plotting--that it would be wise toguard against undue influence by a too prolonged stay at the Romancourt; and the honorable recall of the Secretary Giustiniani had soonthereafter been managed. 

The friar's face had grown stern, but he did not resume the conversationuntil the elder Giustinian had strolled away with his host. Then heturned to Marcantonio, speaking earnestly. "Simplicity is no match forsubtlety, " he said, "and much favor hath been shown to her. You willpardon me, Signore, not because you are young and I am old, but becausethe face of your lady hath moved me with a rare sense of unworldliness. There should be no flattery in an act our Lord himself hath taught byhis example, and an old man like Pope Clement might well bestow hisblessing on your little child. But the times are not free from danger;the home is best for the little ones--do not send him from his mother tothe schools. "

"He is but learning to speak, " the young man answered, smiling at thefriar's earnestness; "only his baby word for his mother's name. "

"There are schools for the sons of noblemen in which he will forget it, "said the friar bitterly; "where they teach disloyalty to princes andunmake men to make machines--and the mainspring is at Rome. Gentle womenare won to believe in them by the subtle polish of those who upholdthem, and the marvelous learning by which their teachers fit themselvesfor office. And among them are men noble of character and true ofconscience--but bound, soul and body, by their oath; the system of theJesuit schools in Venice is for nothing else but the building up oftheir order--at all costs of character or happiness. Let her keep herlittle son, for her face seemed wise and tender; the favor which hathbeen shown her may have a meaning. "

"Will not my father some time come to the palazzo Giustiniani? The LadyMarina would make him welcome. "

"Nay, I thank you, " the friar answered, instantly resuming his habitualreserve. "Such gentle friendships form no part of my duty. I spake butin friendly counsel. We, from without, see how the home should be more. The orders are many to maintain the Church--they need no urging--but thehome hath also its privileged domain of childhood to be defended. "

XV

With the return of the young people from Rome, gala days had once moredawned for the Ca' Giustiniani, and the two sumptuous palaces which metat the bend of the Canal Grande were scenes of perpetual fête. Thepalazzo Giustinian Giustiniani had been chosen from all the princelyhomes of Venice as best fitted, from its magnificence, to be offered asa residence to Henry the Third of France, when that monarch had deignedto honor the Republic by accepting its prodigal hospitality. In thebanquet halls, which had been prepared with lavish luxury for hisreception, the few years that had passed had but mellowed the elaboratecarvings and frescoes, while the costly hangings--of crimson velvet withbullion fringes, of azure silk embroidered with fleurs-de-lis, ofbrocades interwoven with threads of gold--had gained in grace of foldand fusion of tints. 

If there were no halls of equal splendor in the palace which had beenprepared for Marcantonio and his bride, it displayed in all itsappointments an elegance and fitness which the stately Lady Laura waseager to exhibit to the critical appreciation of the fastidious uppercircle of Venice. 

Marina had had no share in its decorations, and when consulted beforeher marriage had expressed but one wish. "These cares of rank are new tome, " she had said, with gentle dignity; "but thou wilt best know how tochoose the elegance befitting Marco's home; for my father hath warned methat in these matters there is a custom which I, more than others, maynot break. Dear Lady Laura, for Marco's sake forget that I am of thepeople, yet, remembering it, to choose but so much of splendor asseemeth needful, lest the palazzo be too costly for a mistress not nobleby birth, and so"--she hesitated--"and so win Marco's friends to love meless. "

"Marina, Marco hath told me, with a very lover's face, that some arenoble by birth who are not so by name. "

"Dear Lady, " the girl answered, with a charming flush, "had Marco not soplead with me there could have been no question of this home. "

The eyes of the great lady beamed with a new and tender pride; innothing that her boy had ever done for her had he offered her so much asin this love of his which had threatened to part them, but had stirredinstead the mother depths of her soul, which had become clouded by yearsof luxury and artificial life and the knowledge of the ceaselessambitions and selfish scheming which her husband--for the intellectualstimulus she gave him--had been accustomed to confide to her. And nowMarco was not less to her, but more, as he had promised; and if theuncertain hope of that dim, distant, ducal coronet moved her less, itwas not that she would not still do her possible to help Giustinian tohis ambition--but it had become a smaller peak in the distance since thehome life had grown broad enough to bear her calmly when the proudSenator rehearsed some failure or disappointment, with disproportionedbitterness. 

Thinking of these things she smiled at Marina with new appreciation; thegirl's gentle face seemed to her more lovely and her rare calm and graceof spirit more truly noble than the Venetian vivacity of charm in whichat first she had found her lacking. 

"Thou hast a way of winning, " she said, "which many might envy thee; andin seeming not to ask, thou shalt be served for love. It is the grace ofone born to rule. But hast thou _no_ wish? Is there no one place I maymake all beautiful at thine asking, within thy palace, to prove, sweetMarina, how thy Marco's mother loves thee?"

She parted her soft hair and kissed her forehead, but neither of themnoticed that it was a first caress. 

"I should like the oratory to be beautiful!" Marina cried, clasping herhands with sudden enthusiasm; "very beautiful--like a gift to the HolyMother!"

"And it shall bring a blessing on thy marriage, " the Lady Laura answeredher. 

So when the secretary and his young wife had returned to Venice andtheir palace was thrown open to guests, the private chapel of the LadyMarina was discovered to be a marvel of decoration--with superb Venetianfrescoes set in marvelous scrollwork by Vittoria, with carvings ofmother-of-pearl from Constantinople, with every sumptuous detail thatcould be devised; for, during the three years of their absence, the LadyLaura had not wearied of her gracious task nor stayed her hand. And intothis incongruous setting--costly, overloaded, composite, and destituteof true religious feeling, a very type of the time in Venice--Marinabrought the redeeming note of consecration, a priceless altar--ancient, earth-stained, and rude, almost grotesque in symbolism--as a great prizeand by special dispensation, from an underground chapel in Rome. Alsothe rare and beautiful ivory crucifix had its history; the malachitebasin for holy water had been a gift to the infant Giustinian from hiseminence the cardinal-sponsor on the day of his baptism; there wereother treasures, more rare and sacred still, within the shrine of theoratory, and there was a gift from his Holiness Pope Clement VIII. 

There was no banquet hall in the palazzo Marcantonio Giustiniani, but itwas not needed, for the two palaces were like one. 

The Lady Laura was radiant. If there had ever been a question of theplace that Marcantonio's bride should occupy in that patrician circle, the distinction conferred upon her by the Senate had sufficed toestablish it. There could be no jealousy of one who occupied the highestplace, of one so gracious and equal to her honors, only of those whoshould win her favor. So all came in the hope of it, and all were won;but there were no partialities, no intimacies; for all ambitions of theyoung and newly created patrician, the fullness of the home lifesufficed to her. 

Marina had grown more beautiful out of the joy of loving and theincreased satisfaction of her religious life, to which she was more thanever devoted; her passion for beauty expressed itself by delight insumptuous ceremonial, while her love of romance and her unquestioningfaith were alike nourished on the legends of the saints which had becomefar more to her during her stay in Rome, where every hour had beenhappiness. These three years of absence had made some subtle differencein the Lady Marina; there was more mystery about her with less reserve, and a certain calm acceptance of the position all conceded had given hercourage to discuss religious history and opinions in a serious way thatwas quite charming to the older prelates who mingled in Venetian socialcircles, where simple earnestness of soul was a quality so rare that itmight have been mistaken for a depth of subtlety; but the Lady Marinatalked or listened only because the themes were of vital interest forher. Besides, she had now her child to guide and she must know; and thelearned men who gave their lives to the study of higher things werethose, above all others, from whom she could learn the most; and withthis unconscious flattery a little court, of a character somewhatunusual in Venice, had gathered in her salons. Her husband, coming inlate from the Council Chamber one evening, rallied her upon it, sayingthat her receptions might be mistaken for those of a lady abbess--therewere so many friars and grave ecclesiastics among her guests. His lighttone concealed a little uneasiness, for the friar's warning had morethan once recurred to him. 

But it was impossible to convey anything to Marina by a half-concealedthrust, her nature was so essentially ingenuous, incapable of imaginingintrigues of any sort. 

"Yes, it is indeed an honor!" she answered, with her ready, trustingsmile. "It is good of them, they are so much more interesting than theothers; and to-night the talk was quite delightful! I would thou hadstbeen here, my Marco! Life is so much more beautiful since we have beento Rome! _Everything_ that was delightful came with our marriage, " sheadded, turning her radiant face toward him. 

He smiled, too, quite disarmed by her beauty and candor, and a littleamused that this life of a Venetian princess should be so lightlyincluded in this "everything" which marriage had brought to this maidenof Murano; but he could not help thinking how easily she wore herhonors, and how she graced them; all Venice was at her feet, and shepreferred the dull talk of a few ecclesiastics to the vivaciousgallantry of the brilliant young nobles who thronged her salons--themore anxious to please this queen of the day, that their efforts wononly the dignified and gracious, yet reserved, recognition that wasextended to all her guests alike. She was the very reverse of Venetianin character and manner, but since she had been so honored by theRepublic that difference was recognized as her distinction and charm. 

"I doubt not, " Marcantonio said, laughingly, "that if nuns might takepart in our social functions thou wouldst prefer them also to thine ownmaidens and all the noble ladies of the Canal Grande. But who held partin this interesting ridotto to-night?"

"Truly, Marco, I think some day perchance I may get a dispensation andhave all the nuns of San Donate for baby's festa in the oratory--wouldit not be beautiful to hear them chanting in our own palazzo! But thatis only a dream; I know not if it may ever be. "

She came toward him, in her shimmering festal robes, with theunconscious, happy grace of a child, dropping into a low seat closebeside him, leaning back and letting her hands fall in an attitude ofcomplete repose, while she gave him, without effort, the detail of theevening's talk. He was a little surprised at the way in which she madethis graphic recital of a discussion he would have supposed beyond hercomprehension--or at least beyond her concern--and he was not whollypleased. He had quite forgotten that one of the charms of Marina uponwhich he had insisted in the days when he had made much of this maidento his patrician mother was that in capacity for thought and in force ofcharacter she was far above the maidens of ancient lineage, from whomthe Lady Laura would have had him choose his bride. 

Marina had named, among others, Fra Francesco, her own spiritualdirector, a Servite friar of gentle and winning demeanor, who was muchbeloved both in his convent and in other circles where his duties calledhim. He was a man of simple habits and the most exemplary life, whosewhole force lay in his extreme devotion to duty and his passionate lovefor the Church; his sole anxiety was for her glory, and he would havebeen supremely happy in the life he had chosen, were it not for hisgrowing anxiety lest from her own sons she should receive dishonor. Hewas always a welcome visitor at the palazzo Giustiniani, and alreadythe little prince of the household had a special smile for him. 

"Ah, Fra Francesco, of course!" said Marcantonio, in an indulgent tone;"our own friars and ecclesiastics are welcome. But, carina, theseforeign priests are often of a different way of thinking; and DonFernanzo Lillo, that fluent Spaniard--verily I would have thee don thymost freezing dignity when he comes again. "

"But, Marco mio, thou doest him injustice; he is most interesting; hewas telling about the frescoes of the Michelangelo in the SistineChapel; he knoweth them well, yet I think he liketh them little. "

"It matters not, " said Marcantonio, a little disdainfully; "thou hastalready seen them; thou canst have thine own opinion of their merit. "

"But to hear all the allegories explained and all the illusions to thehistory of our Holy Church is _most_ interesting, " Marina pursuedcalmly; "for the dear padre of San Donate had but little instruction; Imust know about all these things for baby's sake--he is growing sofast. "

"He is not going to be an artist, " his father answered shortly; "and ifhe were, we could find a better person to instruct him than a Spanishmember of the Jesuit College. "

"_Marco_!" exclaimed his wife, with a long note of surprise; "is not ourHoly Church one? and are not her sons scattered over the whole world? Iknew not he displeased thee, " she continued, in a changed tone, after alittle pause. "Of course I will not see him again. But is it DonFernanzo Lillo himself, or--or--Marco--it cannot be the order! Thoucanst not be so narrow!"

"At this time, Marina, with matters thus between Venice and Rome, I donot care to entertain any of their order or any foreign priests in ourhome; they do not place things in the proper light, and we have alwaysheld a special position of loyalty toward Venice. When she is indifficulties all the Ca' Giustiniani should seem to remember it; itcould make no other difference. "

"I do not understand, " she answered, looking at him with perplexedbrows. 

"Why shouldst thou!" he exclaimed, glad to change a distasteful topic;"such weariness is not needful for thee. I will not bring the worries ofthe Council Chamber into thy boudoir. "

"Nay, Marco, it would please me, " she answered eagerly, rising instantlyfrom her languid attitude to come and stand over him, laying one hand onhis shoulder, half in caress and half in command. "Thy father tellsthese matters to the Lady Laura; and for baby's sake I should understandthese troubles which touch our Republic. He will ask me questions verysoon. "

"Well, then, " he consented ungraciously, "what is it thou wouldst ask?"

She laughed at his reluctance, pressing her hand with a firmer and yetmore loving touch on his shoulder. "Because I am a Giustinian, " shebegan, with a plea which invariably won him, "tell me about thisquestion of Vicenza which occupies them all so much--I could notunderstand. Who is this Abbott of Nervessa?"

At her first words he had folded her caressing hand in his, but hedropped it in immediate displeasure and walked quickly away from her, speaking indignantly. "They talked of this in thy presence?"

"They said an abbé was imprisoned in the Piombi; they said it wasagainst the law to imprison ecclesiastics except by the authority of thePope. Oh, Marco mio, I am afraid he will be very angry!"

"What else did they tell thee?" he questioned doggedly. 

"They said there was a Canon Saraceni also--both imprisoned in Venice. Marco mio, it is an insult to our Holy Father!"

"What else?"

"Nothing more--but only about some law of Venice that I did notunderstand; I wished to ask thee. "

"And Fra Francesco was here and heard them talk?"

"Nay, Fra Francesco stays never long; and this was but a few momentsbefore thy coming. I left the Sala Tiziana to see if all were going wellin this little salon, and they were speaking of Vicenza, and I askedthem. Wherefore art thou angry, Marco? What kept thee so late to-night?"

She had never seen him in such a mood; he had persistently refused tomeet her beseeching glance; but now he drew a quick breath of relief, and came back to her side. 

"It was this miserable matter of Vicenza that detained the Council insuch lengthy session, " he said, "and it was not fit to have beenmentioned in thy presence, my sweet wife; I might well be angry. Butsince thou wert not there, I can pardon them. "

"Yes, it was I who questioned them, " she repeated eagerly, anxious toshield her guests from her husband's indignation, though she did notunderstand it. "They were talking of the Abbot of Nervessa and of hisHoliness, and when I came they rose to do me honor; and I also, to benot lacking in courtesy, said, 'Le prego, Signori--I beg of you, ' andbade them continue the talk in which they had seemed full of interest. Marco, in the Senate--do they know that the Pope is angry about theAbbot of Nervessa?"

Her eyes were full of the eagerness of her question. If they but knewall would be well, she thought; she had so wished for Marco to be thereand hear them talk!

"Marina, this whole matter is a question for the government to decide;it is not for ecclesiastics to discuss--they know nothing of any lawsbut their own. This is a civil case. "

"Would they not understand things better if they were allowedrepresentation in the Senate?" she persisted. "And what is this law? Andwhy is the subject not fit for Venetian nobles to discuss, since ittouches them so nearly?" She was growing disturbed, for she feared someinjustice, since Marco had not been indignant at the strange conditionshe had unfolded to him, and she had thought it must suffice only toname it to him. 

The young patrician looked at her in amazement. Fra Paolo was indeedright, yet he had been almost indignant at the suggestion. 

"The subject cannot be discussed, " he said, in quick, hard tones, "because the Abbot of Nervessa hath committed crimes so atrocious thatthou would'st shrink at the bare naming of them. And for Saraceni--theCanon of Vicenza--there came one day to the Senate a noble lady ofVicenza, young, and very beautiful, and in great trouble, castingherself at the feet of the Serenissimo, imploring protection fromdisgrace that the canon would bring upon her--a scandal I had neverthought to name to thee. And there are other charges. "

"It cannot be true!" she cried, flushed and trembling. "Dear Marco, theyare priests!"

"The truth will be decided by the integrity of the law, " he answered, severely; "they shall have justice at our courts; but it is a questionfor the civil courts, since the people also cry for justice, and theecclesiastical law is not to deal with heinous civil offenses--thoughcommitted by one in priestly robes. It is a just law of Venice--ancient, and only now reaffirmed. "

"This is the law they spake of, Marco?"

Now that she dimly understood there was some great trouble coming on thepeople, she must know the right at any cost--even that of her husband'sdispleasure; it was her duty to him, and she had put her questionfirmly. 

"This--and another, " he answered, unwillingly. "Listen, Marina, for I amweary of thy questions. The law to forbid new foundations of church ormonastery, or the introduction of new religious orders without thesanction of the government--also an ancient law, and but nowreaffirmed--is doubtless that of which they spake. "

Marina stood confounded, with flashing eyes; how could the Republicdare to question the liberties of the Church! "Thou meanest, Marco, thatthe Church, which is the head, must ask the Doge what she may do whenshe would increase her own religious institutions--when she hath need ofbuildings for her holy work!"

"Thou hast an understanding quicker than I had believed, " he answered, with irritation; "and listen further, Marina--'since a Giustinian shouldknow the reason for the matters which concern the government, ' that wasthy word, if I remember--the half of the territory of Venice hathalready passed into the hands of the clergy. Is that not ground enoughto hold their establishments, that thou wouldst grant them more? And forthe value of these possessions--for nowhere is a government moregenerous to the ecclesiastics than the Republic hath been--it hath beenrated that a fourth part of the entire realty of the dominion--nay, somecount it a third part--is already the property of the Church. Shall wenobles of Venice turn paupers and humbly beg of the clergy a pittancefor our children?"

He laughed and kissed her hand as he rose. "Since thou hast asked it, "he said lightly, "I have given thee the law--and there is an end of it. But let it not fret thee; Venice will know how to care for her own. "

But Marina had suddenly grown very pale. "Marco, " she gasped, detaininghim, "will it be a war?--a war between Venice and--and----"

She broke off; she could not speak the word which seemed a sacrilege. 

"Think of our child!" she whispered, as he gathered her in his arms, andtried to soothe her. "Marco, are we not a Christian nation? And ourPatriarch--does he know about the displeasure of the Holy Father? Whatwill become of us?"

"There will be no war, " Marcantonio declared, with assurance. "Thousee'st, carina, these matters are not for women to discuss; they cannotunderstand; they are questions for the government alone; and well it isfor us that the clergy are out of it, or we might have the spectacle ofa Senate drowned in tears! There will be no war, " he declared again, mistaking the self-control for which she had bravely struggled as anoutcome of his attempts at consolation. "And now, since thou art thysweet self again, hath the boy not made the day richer for thee withsome tale of wonder thou wouldst unfold?"

XVI

There was no longer any doubt as to the intention of his Holiness towardthe rebellious spirit of the Most Serene Republic; the AmbassadeExtraordinary which had been appointed to convey to the Holy See thedutiful congratulations of her devoted Venetian sons, on the accessionof Paul V, had few amenities to report in those lengthy dispatches towhich the Senate listened with a dignity which disdained to show theleast outward trace of irritation or forgetfulness, in a presence soexasperating as that of the Papal Nuncio, Orazio Mattei. 

Day after day the Senate sat, in solemn state, to hear its delinquenciesrehearsed in the words of Paul V, by the graphic pen of his ExcellencyAgostino Nani, Ambassador from the Republic to the Holy See, withceaseless repetitions of demand on the part of the Sovereign Pontiff;with ceaseless repetitions of refusal, most deferently couched, from thecourtly representative of the offending power; with threats of that mostdread compeller of obedience which none but a sovereign pontiff maywield; and very clearly phrased, that all might understand, thedeclaration in the words of his Holiness himself, that he had determinedto "mortify the over-weening audacity of the secular rulers of theworld. "

With a patience which bore its fruit in a more rigid determination toconquer, they listened, also, to many violent speeches from the Nuncio, explanatory of papal authority, founded upon the dicta of a Gregory, "_That none may judge the Pope. That all princes should kiss the feet ofthe Pope_, " and invariably sustained by this axiom of Mattei, deliveredas a refrain--so sure were the college of its repetition, "I am Popehere; I want no replies, only obedience, " and the reiterated assertionthat "Christianity depends upon the acceptance in its entirety of thedoctrine of papal supremacy, and that he has heard much of the vauntedpiety of the Venetian Republic, of which he fails to find evidence. "

In vain the Senate pleaded that on such a point there might be differingviews, and that men should be known for Christians by their faithfulnessin duty, by their practice of almsgiving and of the sacraments and ofall other good and Christian works; but the answer came swiftly, "Naughtelse availeth. "

It was a relief to the stately and grim Giustinian to lose his temper inthe sanctity of his home, since that freedom was beneath the dignity ofa Venetian ruler in the company of others who were chafing like himselffrom insults they would have rejoiced to hurl back in the face of thespeaker; and he was the less inclined to view favorably the effortstoward conciliation of the embassy to the Holy See, because it wouldhave pleased him to have been named among those six of this AmbassadeExtraordinary, on a mission so important, as an honor due to his ancienthouse. 

"It is repetition _ad nauseam_, " he insisted hotly, "of demands forabrogation of those laws, for yielding up of those two reverendcriminals to the ecclesiastical courts, of Nani's soft replies to thequick speeches of his Holiness--an unending farce!"

"Giustinian, " said the Lady Laura quietly, "the difficulties are great. How can the Holy Father yield a point which touches the honor of theChurch?"

"Verily, my lady, I believe thou art not responsible for thine ownfoolishness!" her husband exclaimed angrily. "If that prelate cousin ofSaraceni comes again to thy salon, let him be refused! He shall notprate to thee of 'law' and 'supremacy, ' who hath sought for thisoccasion to embroil us with the Holy See. For the Senate hath learnedto-day, through the trustworthy open mouth of our watchful Lion, withevidence irrefragable, that it is this reverend father who hath carriedthe tale to Rome. "

"Tell me the right of it, " she said again. "How may the honor of theChurch be saved, yet the dignity of Venice be maintained? If there be away, we women should speak for it. "

"Is the honor of the Church maintained by standing as a shield to crime?It is Venice who would save the Church; the civil ruler shall purge hersacred courts of such iniquities and leave her the purer for her sons tolove. Such is the law--ancient and just--and a right Venice cannotyield. And more than this, " he continued impressively, "all Europe iswaiting on the issue, for the real contest is on the rights of civilrulers, and these imprisoned ecclesiastics are but the pretext for aquarrel; and ill-judged, verily, on the part of the Holy Father, sinceif the cases were less heinous there might have been occasion forconfusion of judgment. But now, who will dare assert that the honor ofthe Church is concerned in protecting men who disgrace mankind!"

"The Republic is then sure of her ground?"

"So sure we are of right that letters are already sent to everyChristian court of Europe, announcing the causes of this quarrel and thestand of Venice. "

"Marina is greatly troubled, " said the Lady Laura, with a sigh. 

"Let her go often to San Marco and pray for us--the child is good fornothing else since this trouble came. "

"She hath more comfort at San Donato; and the mother superior is a noblewoman and beloved by her. "

"Ay, it is all one--so that she wear not out the patience of Marcantonioby her importunities. The Senate will stand firm on the issue, and notone of the Ca' Giustiniani shall flinch. "

"Is there no possible doubt of the ending?" the Lady Laura questioned, after a little troubled silence. Her heart was very sore for Marina, whoslept but little, and was constantly fasting. 

"Only of that which lieth between; the end is triumph for Venice, "Giustinian declared. "Tell that to Marina, and calm her fears. Also, letit not be known that she is so weak in courage; it would be held againstMarcantonio, to whom the suspicion of being wife-ridden would do aninfinite injustice. And bid Marcantonio himself tell her of the votethat hath passed the Senate, without dissent of a single voice, forletters to be sent to the imperious Paul to make an end of his demands, declaring that Venice recognizeth for the temporal government of herstates no superior, save God alone. "

Meanwhile in Rome, to the Ambassador Agostino Nani, Paul had alreadysuperbly made answer, "We are above all men, and God hath given us powerover all men; we can depose kings and do yet more than that. Especiallyour power is 'quae tendunt ad finem supranaturalem. ' (Over those thingswhich tend to a supernatural end. )"

All thoughts of festivity in the City of the Sea were over; the strengthof her patricians--men and women--was concentrated on this momentousquarrel with the Holy See, which they would indeed have put off were itpossible, but which, having come upon them, they would bear withconquering pride. All through those dark December days the pressuretightened; there were mutterings of the coming storm, against which therulers of Venice were planning defense; there was an oppression, like asense of mental sirocco, in the air--a vague terror of the unknown amongthe people, gathering like the blighting breath which precedes somefierce tornado--while in the palace of San Marco, the Doge, MarinoGrimani, Chief of the Republic in revolt against the Holy See, laydying!

The Lady Marina Giustiniani had forgotten how to smile. When her littleone lifted his rosy baby face to hers she smothered him in caresses, that he might not see her tears; and her husband failed to note thechange, for the Senate sat in unbroken session and the permittedabsences from the Council Chambers of the Republic barely sufficed forsleep. Daily in the oratory of her palace Mass was said, and Marinapassed long hours there on her knees alone, tracing the coming horror toits most dread issue, trying to understand it wholly, that she mightpray with all her soul against it--this _Curse_ which was to blight thelives of all she loved, and of which her dearest seemed to feel nodread! She scarcely ate nor slept--watching, for the morning, when a newintercession for mercy should rise from the oratory in her palace;waiting for the evening, when she might go with her maidens to vespersin San Marco. And still the days darkened in threats--had God forgottento be gracious?

And on this Christmas morning, when the Doge of Venice lay dying in hishalls of state, the nuns of San Donate, won by the prayers and gifts ofthe Lady Marina, were making a procession to all the shrines of Murano, praying, if by any means, God would stay this curse from falling uponVenice. 

No joy-bells rang to usher in the sunrise Mass of this memorableChristmas day. The royal standards of the mighty Lion drooped athalf-mast before the dimmed magnificence of San Marco, their glowinggold and scarlet deadened to shades of mourning steel; and low, muffledtones, like the throbbings of the heart of a people, dropped down fromthe campanile through an atmosphere still and cold as a breath of dread;while from the embassies, the homes of the senators and Signoria, thePatriarch and bishops of Venice, gondolas by twos and threes loomedblack against the gray-dark of the winter dawn, hurrying noiselessly tothe steps of the Piazzetta; and dark, stately figures, each heralded byits torch-bearer, glided like phantoms under the arcades of the DucalPalace, up between the grim, giant guardians of the stairway, and on tothe galleries adjoining the apartments of the Doge, to await the hour ofMass. 

An edict, more unanswerable than any ever issued by Republic or Curia, had gone forth, and in solemn state Venice awaited its fulfilment. 

In that hush of reverent waiting, before the first faint saffron streakhad glimmered in the east, up through the flaring torches of the lowercourt, unbidden and unwelcome, came the single figure in all that throngwhich seemed to have no part in the solemn drama. To-day was like otherdays for the nuncio, who was no member of the court of Venice, but afigure without discretionary privilege, sent to keep in perpetual mind ahigher power. By his peremptory instructions he requested at once aformal audience to deliver a message from his Holiness Paul V, whichcould brook no delay. 

"Behold!" said he, after due grace of apology, when the senators hadwithdrawn to the Sala di Collegio and taken their accustomed places, "here are two briefs which, by the imperative instructions of ourSovereign Lord the Pope, I must at once deliver to your SereneHighnesses. "

They were sealed with the sacred seal of the Curia, and each bore theinscription:

"A Marino Grimani, Duce; e alla Republica Veneta. "

There was but a moment's consultation among the Signoria. 

"The Serenissimo is _in extremis_, " the most venerable of the DucalCouncillors announced, "therefore these briefs which, in the name of theSerene Republic of Venice, we receive, cannot be opened until the solemnceremonials of the death and the election shall have been concluded, "and so dismissed the bearer of the Papal message to return to theaudience of the greater king. 

Meanwhile there was no arresting of that other message, which cameswiftly, and the placid old Grimani--wise, beloved, and regretted--laiddown his sceptre of state in the moment of the greatest need of Venice, and passed on to a Court of Inquiry whose findings are inalterably just. 

Calmly, as if they knew not the contents of the unopened briefs, or likemen never to be surprised into forgetfulness, the Signoria andcouncillors assisted at the crowded ceremonials of the days thatfollowed, when the Serenissimo lay in state in the _chapelle ardente_, which was prepared in one of the great chambers of the Palace, withtwenty nobles in ceaseless attendance, the people thronging silently topay their duty to their Prince--when, by night, in solemn procession, with torches and chanting of requiems, they carried him to the church ofSan Zanipolo, their gondolas draped in mourning, their banners furled incrêpe, the imposing insignia of the state he had put off forever bornebefore him to the giant baldichino before the high altar, where, surrounded by innumerable candles, he lay until the morning should bringthe closing pomp of the last solemn Mass. 

Not one honor had been omitted, not one ceremonial abridged because ofthose briefs upon which the seal of the Vatican was still unbroken; andwhen the imposing obsequies were over, and there was no longer a princeto lift the weight of the gold-wrought mantle and the ducal beretta inthe sight of the people, the ship of state yet bore herself superbly, steering as serenely through the troubled sea as if each man still readhis signal in the face of a beloved commander. 

And now the singular strength of the Republic and the perfection of themachine of government was evidenced, as, without a moment of indecision, the officers proceeded to discharge the duty allotted to the hour, according to the forms prescribed in those endless volumes of the "LibriCeremoniali, " which provided for every function of life or death of thepunctilious Venetian court. 

No leader, however loved and revered, was individually great, but onlyas he contributed to the greatness of Venice--the one deathless entity;her noblest were content to give of their greatness and be themselvesnameless; and against the less great, for whom self-effacement wasimpossible--men strong in gifts and eager for power--the jealousRepublic had provided a system of efficient checks, based upon an astuteunderstanding of the fears and claims of self-interest. Venice knew nohiatus in rule; all were leaders to point the way of that inviolableconstitution when the supreme voice was temporarily silent, for it wasthe voice of an impersonal prince, and not of the man--who hadabsolutely put off individuality when he assumed the insignia ofroyalty. 

In this hour of adversity the men of Venice rose to their greatest, forgetting their rivalries and standing breast to breast in phalanxaround their vacant throne, that Venice might meet trouble withincreased strength when the eyes of the world were curiously turned uponher. 

Inexorably, though no voice had been raised against Grimani, theyappointed that commission of inquisitors to review every official act ofthe last wearer of this crown which now lay idly waiting on the goldencushion; as sternly elected, those five "correctors" of the coronationoath so soon to be administered to a new wearer of the ermine, andwithout pause for praise or strife, proceeded to the cumbersome choiceof the ducal electors whose word should suffice to create a new Venetianprince. 

Meanwhile, against the barred doors of the Council Chambers, where thosegrave Signori were balloting and re-balloting with exemplary patiencefor the golden balls, the nuncio knocked again, breathless with hislatest message sent in haste from the Holy See: "_The election of a newprince would be void, being made by a people under censure_. "

But the law of Venice was ready with its decorous shield, and themessage could not pass beyond. The punctilious Signoria might give noaudience in the days that intervened between Doge and Doge, except toreceive that message of condolence which it had not entered the heart ofhis Holiness to frame, and the nuncio appealed in vain to otherauthorities in Venice to win him audience for the delivery of hissovereign's mandate. 

With whatever burnings of heart and secret hopes and ambitions thoseforty-one elected nobles, after days of weary, patient tossings of goldand silver balls--a mere intricate child's play had it not been for thegreatness of the prize--saw themselves closed within the chamber fromwhich they might not issue forth until there was again a prince inVenice; with what vividness a Giustinian foresaw his own stern visagestamped on the coin of Venice in that moment when his name appeared onthe first folded paper drawn from the fateful urn; with what dignity heconcealed his baffled hope and watched, from under frowning eyebrows, aMorosini and a Ziani pass, in turn, through the fierce ordeal ofrelegation to obscurity--the annals of that secret council do notreveal. 

But in this stress of Venice the electors quitted themselves like truemen, and when the noble Cavalière Leonardo Donato--full of dignity, ofwisdom, and of honors, skilled in diplomacy and experience, and bold aswise--came forth to scatter his coronation gift of coin in the Piazza, and after solemn religious ceremonial was shown from the pulpit of SanMarco as Prince of Venice, well might the people shout in acclamation, "_Provato! Provato_!" ("Approved!") and the watching courts of Europehasten to express, through their resident ambassadors, eagercongratulations that one so fitted to fill the position with distinctionhad taken his place among the rulers. 

But Orazio Mattei brought no message of congratulation from Rome. 

XVII

Giustinian Giustiniani had been among the electors and had listened tothat strict canvassing of acts, both private and official, whichpreceded the final vote for the Prince of Venetia. 

"Venice hath taken stand before the courts of Europe with a leader whofeareth naught--save not to do the right, " he magnanimously assured theLady Laura one evening when, according to their wont, they werediscussing the theme which never failed in interest. "Nay, not eventhat; for Donato hath courage in himself, and in his own rulings faith, and more a man needs not. "

"Then wherefore hath the Signoria created this office of _TeologoConsultore_, and appointed thereto this friar of the Servi, of whom theytell such marvels--as if the Collegio, with all our learned chancellors, were not enough!"

"Leave thou these matters to the Signoria, who, verily, know how torule--ay, and how to choose; for the man is like none other. "

"What uses hath the Senate for this cloistered scholar, skilled in manysciences and master of tongues, " the Lady Laura persisted, "that itshould create an office--which since the _serrata_ it hath not beenknown to do--and appoint a friar over the heads of our nobles who haveloyally served the Republic since our ancestors first sat in theConsiglio? There are the halls of Padua for our scholars, where alreadyhis friend, the master Galileo, holdeth high honors, by favor of theSenate; and if Fra Paolo were named Rector Magnifico, and put at itshead----"

"Nay, nay, the Senate is wise, " her husband interrupted, not ill pleasedat her vehemence and the patrician pride which prompted it. "And if theRepublic hath no present need of the Consultore's mastery of sciences, the fame thereof hath made a hearing for any speech of his. But he hathno mind to any social pleasures--how, then, my lady, hast seen him, orknowest thou the quality of his learning?"

"Fra Francesco is never weary of telling of his wisdom; they have beenfriends since boyhood in the Servi. The master Galileo, if one maybelieve him, can do naught without consulting Fra Paolo, and togetherthey are building some strange tunnel that shall bring the stars nearer!It is like a fable to listen to these marvels of his friend, who for hisdiscoveries might well hold all the chairs in Padua if Fra Francescomight decree his deserts! But Fra Francesco is simple-minded. Tell me, Giustinian, how doth the Consultore appear to thee?"

"To me and to all men like one who betrays no secret and speaks no idleword. "

"Once, " pursued the lady meditatively, "I had sight of him, going withMarco to the convent to see our Madonna of the Veronese, and Fra Paoloministered in the chapel of the Consolation; very quiet and simple heseemed, like the other frati. I had not thought him great, nor a leaderof men. Are there no statesmen in Venice who might better fit thedignity of so great an office?"

"Think not to teach subtlety to the Signoria, my Lady Laura! Is notevery noble a statesman trained, and every one at the service of theRepublic? But there is no greater theologian at the Court of Paul V, norany ecclesiastic among them all more familiar with the writings of theirauthorities; and he hath a memory so astounding that he beareth themeaning of all their codes on the end of his tongue wherewith to confutethe fallacious arguments of Rome. "

"Giustinian!"

"It is like a woman to ask a thing and cry out if the answer be notsmothered in sweets!" the old Senator retorted irritably, resenting heraccent of reproof. "It is small marvel if the Consultore seemeth notgreat to thee; the power of the man is in the clarity of his vision andthe brevity of his speech. "

"Who named him to the Signoria?"

"Donato knew him well, and Morosini and all our ablest men; and hisknowledge of the ways of Rome, where he hath been much in legislation atthe Vatican, is a power in the Senate--which hath no mind to be taken inargument, nor to fail in courtesy, nor to show ignorance in its demands. It is much to have a judge whose opinion our adversary must respect. "

"The Senate will be cautious--will not forget the reverence owed to theHoly Church?" she asked, in warning, troubled at his bold use of words. 

"Nay, but the Republic will first remember the duty owed to our prince, since it is a matter that toucheth the State, " he answered, uncompromisingly, "and for our duty to the Church--leave that to ourfrate, than whom none is more devout. "

She was too keenly interested not to put the further question:

"Is it safe for Fra Paolo to lead this controversy? Is it pleasing tohis order?"

Giustinian gave a contemptuous laugh. 

"Thou mayest well ask! Fra Paolo also would not hear of it at first, foreseeing where it might lead. But from urgency of the Senate heyielded--if the consent of the general of the Servi were first won. Wherefore it was granted one knows not; but the purple robe had, perchance, some weight in the argument, --being a pleasing honor, --thoughone may dare assert that Fra Paolo himself gave it not a thought, havinggathered honors all his life with no care for any greatness they mightbring. "

"Nay, it was not this that won them, " said the Lady Laura, withdecision, "but their hope that Fra Paolo would support the claims of theHoly Father; it could have been nothing else. "

"A hope most reasonable, were he a man of less remarkable force, "Giustinian answered confidently. "But, as if he held a divining-rod, hefindeth at once the heart of a matter, and Venice hath no fears. "

No, Venice had no fears. If there had been heartburnings, they were allforgotten; her rulers were one in determination while they calmlyweighed the balance between Church and State, and confidently awaitedthe issue. The briefs had been opened and the chief Counsellor, the newTeologo Consultore, had given an opinion which filled the Senate withadmiration. 

"Two remedies might be found: one, material, by forbidding thepublication of the censures and preventing the execution of them, thusresisting illegitimate force by force clearly legitimate, so long as itdoth not overpass the bounds of natural right of defense; and the othermoral, which consisteth in an appeal to a future council. But, "continued this sagacious Counsellor, after a word explanatory of the"future council, " "it were better to avoid this appeal in order not toirritate the Pope more than ever; and also because he who appealethadmiteth that the goodness of his cause is doubtful, whereas that of theRepublic is indubitable. "

Such was the opinion, brief as positive, to which the senators listenedin undisguised satisfaction on that memorable day in January, 1606; andalthough those briefs, "Given in Saint Peter's, in Rome, under the Ringof the Fisherman, on the 10th of December, 1605, " darkly threatenedexcommunication unless these dearly beloved sons of Venice withdrew fromthe stand they had taken, yet with a Doge who "would laugh at anexcommunication, " and a learned Counsellor who assured them that thecause of the Republic was indubitable, well might the shadows lessen inthe Senate Chamber; while in calm assurance the Savii[7] prepared thereply to these communications from his Holiness, which the SignorAgostino Nani presently delivered in an audience at Rome. 

 [7] These Savii, or _wise men_, had charge of the diplomatic despatches of the Republic. 

But the task of the courtly Nani was not an enviable one, deferent aswas the form of the epistle in which these devoted sons declared thatnothing could have been further from the thoughts of Venice than toprejudice the rights of the Church--humbly as they implored the HolyFather to recall the many acts of loyalty by which Venice had shown herlove and reverence. Had she not been foremost in the Crusade? Was theChurch anywhere more magnificently supported in temporal weal? Earnestlyas they assured him of the harmlessness of those laws which he condemnedas hurtful to their souls, quietly announcing that the Republic hadtransgressed no right in making laws for her own independent civilgovernment, --and gracious and diplomatic as were the ways of Nani, --hisHoliness declared the letter to be "frivolous and vain, " and dismissedthe ambassador with temper, assuring him that unless the Republic foundmeans to retract those laws "the gates of hell should not prevail" todeter him from inflicting the utmost threatened penalty. 

It was a frank contest of wills, in which each opponent conscientiouslybelieved himself in the right; but it was, nevertheless, not an equalcontest; for Paul, conceiving that his duty in the exalted position ofhead of the Church which had been so unexpectedly thrust upon him, layin its mere temporal aggrandizement, while consciously turning all hispowers in that direction, misnamed the struggle a _spiritual_ one. ButVenice not only believed but confessed it to be merely a question ofcivil rights of rulers, and, strong in the sense of the justice of hercause, used every grace of trained diplomacy in asserting it--upon anunderstanding of civil law which was beyond the attainment of the lawyerCamillo Borghese, and with the aid of specialists whose knowledge ofcanon law equaled that of his Holiness. 

Among the important matters touched upon in those days in the Senate thequestion had been broached, not without anxiety, as to whether Romewould have recourse to force of a less spiritual nature, and a secretcommission had been appointed to examine and report from the frontiersany accession of papal troops, while envoys were sent to Ferrara on thesame furtive errand: and the more serious Venetians were alreadydiscussing the possibility of war as one of the aspects of this quarrelwith the Holy See. 

One day, through the swift and secret mouth of the Lion, an unusualmessage reached the Ten, standing strangely out amid a mass of darkermatter--denunciations, sinister information, hints of intrigues; thereason for the choice of this mysterious messenger was stated in thepreamble: "To the end that this may, without circumlocution, immediatelyreach your noble body and be acted upon in your discretion--beingsecretly dismissed, if this seemeth wisest in the interests of theState. " It was a brief offer on the part of Girolamo Magagnati to equipand maintain, at his expense, in the event of war with the Holy See, awar-galley of the largest size, as a gift to the Republic in the name ofhis little grandson, the infant Giustinian. 

Venice, being more munificent in expenditure than her unassistedtreasury would warrant, was at all times ready to receive and encourageprivate bounties from her wealthy citizens; and the promptness andgenerosity of Magagnati's gift, the first which had been offered in thisemergency, seemed in the interests of the government to demand someadequate public recognition, modestly as it had been proffered. Haughtyas was the attitude of Venice in the face of the threatenedexcommunication, the occasion was one of peril to which she was notblind, and the danger was greatest among the people--the _popolo_--whowere more under the influence of the priests, and who still included intheir beliefs many superstitions which were not likely to deter thedisciplined body of nobles from acquiescence in the decisions of theirchiefs. 

It was therefore a moment for diplomacy, when Venice might fitly showmagnanimity in her acceptance of so princely a gift from one of thepeople, as this master-worker of Murano was still esteemed; and GirolamoMagagnati was invited to appear before the Senate and receive theacknowledgment of the Serenissimo, who had already been informed by theCouncillors that while the spontaneous offer of a galley so maintainedhad no precedent in the annals of Venice, the reward which the Senateproposed to bestow had, in fact, in early historic days been offered bythe Republic as a stimulus to such a gift. 

Girolamo Magagnati, a grave and venerable figure, --with white locksfalling from under his round black cap, and a full gray beard flowingover the long merchant's robe of stiff silk, and wearing the insigniaof his calling, a golden chain which by its weight and numerous linkswas also an indication of his wealth, --might have been one of theSignoria, as he stood among them to receive their thanks--unabashed, asbecame one of his dignity of character and age, unattended, as befittedone of the people. 

The Doge himself made a gracious speech of acceptance on behalf of theRepublic, to which Girolamo briefly answered: "Most Serene Prince andNoble Lords of the Council, in the name of my grandson Giustinian, Ithank you, " and with a grave obeisance he would have retired; but it wassignified to him that he might not yet withdraw. 

"Yet one thing remaineth, most esteemed Messer Magagnati, by which thisRepublic would testify her appreciation of such loyalty and forethought, by reason of which--as for the esteem in which this Republic hath everheld the ancient house of Magagnati, which from the earliest times hathbeen foremost in our industry of Murano--we propose to confer nobilityupon thine house, and to give thee an immediate seat of right in theMaggior Consiglio. "

The honor was so unexpected that the body of grave Councillors had risenin congratulation before Girolamo Magagnati could frame other responsethan his profound and grave obeisance. 

But there was no hint of indecision in the deep, measured tones withwhich he made reply:

"Most Serene Prince and Lords of the Council, I beg you to believe in mydeep appreciation of the honor you would bestow. But let it rather besaid of me that I--being still of the people, as all of my house fromthe commencement of this Republic have ever been--have yet received suchfavor of my Prince that he accepts from one of the people this token ofloyal service to the government. And more I ask not. "

"Also, " he proceeded calmly, taking no note of the consternation on thefaces of his auditors, "is it not fitting for old men to receive favorsfrom children, rather for them to bestow--as I, this galley, in the nameof the boy; the which--were I to accept in return the munificence of theSenate--would be the offering of my galley as so much base coin, wherewith to purchase an honor not mine by birth. Let it not be said inscorn that Girolamo Magagnati hath bought the nobility with which hisbirth hath failed to endow him!"

"Is it better, Messer Magagnati, that some should now say 'it is forarrogance that this noble son of the people refuses a seat among thenobles of Venice'?" the Doge questioned coldly. 

"Not so, Most Serene Prince; each man is rather noble if, in that placewhich God hath assigned him, he doeth nobly the duty belonging thereto;as ye, my Lords, Nobles, and Councillors of the Republic, each in theseat appointed you by birth, serve, without wearying, the interests ofVenice. I am already old and the last of my race, for those of my bloodwho come after me, by the favor of Venice, are inscribed in the 'Librod'Oro. ' If I have deserved aught of your bounty, be gracious when someright of the people is in danger of being forgotten; and let mygrandson, among the nobles, ever serve nobles and people alike--asVenetians--without distinction of interests. But let me die as I havelived, among the workmen of Murano--Magagnati, of the Venetian people. "

"Never before, in the annals of the Republic, was one known to refusethe gift of nobility, " Giustinian explained, as he described the sceneto the Lady Laura. "And, verily, one saw that the displeasure of the Tenwas great; the more so that in the interests of the government thereturn they would have made may not be kept from the knowledge of thepeople. Yet our senior master of Murano was suffered to depart with agracious word of regret from this consummate Donate, 'that a new noble, so loyal in sentiment, should not be numbered among the councillors ofVenice. ' Truly this grandsire of our little one lacketh not pride, andhis bearing became him well, though the Senate would have had itotherwise. His gift was generous; but verily he needeth little for themaintenance of the state he keepeth!"

"Giustinian, it was a noble act! And already the Republic is morebeholden to our baby than to any child in Venice; it will bring gladnessto the face of our sad Marina. "

"Nay, guard thee from speech of it; perchance she may not hear thereof, being thus concerned with grief for this quarrel--womanlike; and shehath not strength to bear the thought of war. Verily, the reverendfather confessors in Venice have much to answer for; I would thoucouldst find means to keep Fra Francesco from his ministrations in herpalace. "

"Fra Francesco--so holy and gentle--a man to trust!"

"Ay, I have naught against him, save that he is trained in the school ofRome, having a conscience to uphold their claims, and with no thought orcare for anything but the Church--no wisdom to discover any right ofprinces. Such confessors make trouble among the people. I doubt not ourdaughter trusteth the word of Fra Francesco beyond thine or mine. Do thypossible to keep him from her; there is no knowing what Marcantonio maydo at her bidding, and in this crisis there shall be no stain upon ourhouse. "

"Thou, then, Giustinian, speak with Marco. "

"Nay, I dare not name Marina to him under such suspicion; it might bethe forcing of the very thing we fear. He hath a way with him of hearingall and saying naught, save some gay, facile word, courteous to thepoint one can find no fault; and underneath he hath perhaps some scheme, and never can one get a promise from him. "

XVIII

The Lady Marina was wan from fear and fasting but very resolute, thoughher face showed traces of tears, as her husband entered the oratory ofthe palace, whither she had implored him to come to her before he wentto the Senate Chamber--a dignity to which he had but just been elected. 

"Why hast thou summoned me hither?" he asked somewhat coldly; for, likemost light-hearted people, he disliked scenes, and differences betweenhimself and his wife were the more intolerable to him because he trulyloved her. 

"Oh, Marco, my beloved!" she exclaimed imploringly, "thou lovest Veniceas much as I, and thy little word can save her from this great horror, for thou art in the councils of thy people. "

"Nay, Marina, thou dost not understand, " he answered deprecatingly, softening at the sight of her trouble. "I have but one vote; it is asnothing in the Senate--it would but draw indignation against our house. It is not possible to fail in loyalty to the Republic on this firstoccasion of moment. "

"Thy father might be won, if thou hast but courage. Thou art aGiustinian; it is thy duty to speak in time of peril, and thy wordswould make others brave to follow thee. Thus shalt thou save Venice. "

"If thou didst but know, carina, how the Senate and the Ten are setagainst this wish of thine! I should not speak of this matter to thee, for it is secret--but to calm thee and help thee understand. "

"How shall it calm me to know that the people and the city are rushingunder the ban? If this terrible resolution passes, if our child--ourtender child--were to die to-morrow he would go without burial--a littlewandering soul! Marco, thou lovest our child?"

Her pauses and her desperate struggle for control were full ofinexpressible horror. 

"Calm thyself, my darling; it shall not be, " he answered, reassuringly. 

"Oh, Marco mio! And thou wilt give thy vote against it? And thou wiltuse thine influence in the Council? Promise me!"

She clung to him, sobbing and exhausted. 

He soothed her for a moment silently; should he leave her under such amisunderstanding? It would be easier for them both, but he had intendedno untruth. How was it possible to make such a woman understand? She wasquiet now, and he was stealing away from her with a kiss on herforehead. 

"Promise me!" she insisted, following him and clasping his arm withsudden strength. 

"Marina, they are very set; and the Ten--thou dost not know theirpower. "

"And shall all Venice brave the wrath of our most Holy Church becausethe Senate is afraid of the Ten? Are the Ten more powerful than the HolyFather and all the priesthood and sacraments of the Church? Marco, mybeloved, how shall I save thee?" "Carina, these things are not comingupon Venice; thou dost not understand the law of Church and State. "

"No, Marco, " she answered boldly, "it is rather thou who dost notunderstand. There will be no services, no marriage for our people, noburial, no consolations of our holy religion, no sacraments--if thisexcommunication should come upon us. "

"If we had sinned, Marina, and laid ourselves open to interdict, thenthese things should come--not otherwise. "

"Ay, but we _have_ sinned--by rebellion against the Holy Church. Marco, it is not easy for men to submit; but Father Francesco says the womenshall save Venice. "

"The women of Venice are priest-ridden!" the young Senator criedangrily, breaking away from her. "If there is trouble, it is the priestswho have brought it. They cannot be a separate power within Venice!"

"Not a separate power, Marco, only the representative of the Church, which is the supreme power. "

"These things are not for women to discuss, " he exclaimed inastonishment that she should attempt to reason on such a subject. 

"Not for women, and not for men, " she answered quietly. "The power ofthe Holy Father is by _divine_ right. "

"Marina, if thou canst say so much, thou _shalt_ understand the rest!"he cried desperately. "So also is the power of temporal princes bydivine right--if not even more, as some of the authorities would haveit. But the temporal prince hath right only to that within his ownjurisdiction. Granting the divine right to the spiritual prince, itlieth only within his own province. Paul V hath exceeded his rights. Leonardo Donato, Serenissimo of the Republic, is not guilty inself-defense. "

She quivered as if a knife had been thrust through her; then, controlling herself by force, she dipped her fingers in the basin ofholy water that stood upon the little altar. "It is sacrilegious tospeak against the Holy Father, " she said in a low, grieved tone, as shemade the sign of the cross upon his breast. "May God forgive thee, mydear one--it is not thy fault. But in the Senate they are misleadingthee!"

"My sweet wife, " he answered, much troubled, and folding her closely. "Do not grieve. All will be well for Venice. We shall not bring harmupon her. "

But she detected no yielding in his tone. She lifted her head from hisbreast, and moved slightly away from him. 

"Marco, " she asked firmly, "when is the vote to be cast?"

"To-day, before sunset, and I must not linger. It would bring misfortuneupon our house if I were to be absent in an affair of such moment. Elsewould I not leave thee. "

She did not seek to detain him. 

"Promise me that thou wilt be reasonable, " he said, looking back, as heparted the draperies of the doorway; "thou wilt not grieve. "

"A promise for a promise, Marco; thou hast given me none, and may theMadonna have mercy upon us!"

After a long, lingering look at the drooping figure of his wife hedropped the curtain and descended to his gondola, sombre in spiritbecause of the work that awaited him in the Senate Chamber; hisfootsteps lagged wearily upon the stone floor of the long, dark passage, and the brilliant outer sunshine flooded him with a sense of desperatelyneeded relief. 

When Marina moved it was to throw herself before the altar, resting herhead upon her clasped hands, in an agony of supplication. 

 * * * * *

In the midst of an excited debate, immediately preceding the final vote, the door of the Senate Chamber was suddenly thrown open by the keeper, who announced in an awestruck tone:

"A citizen claims the right of the humblest Venetian to bring beforeMesser the Doge a message of vital import in the question underdiscussion. "

He uttered the words tremblingly, as if he had been taught them, and theinterruption at such an hour, though not unprecedented, was at leastunusual enough to cause consternation. The flood of words ceased; therewas an uneasy movement among the senators, then a hush of suspense. 

Without waiting for the customary consent of the Doge, a procession ofwhite-robed, white-veiled women passed through the open doorway, movingslowly and solemnly to the Doge's throne. The leader stepped forth fromher group of maidens and knelt at the foot of the dais. 

This sudden arrest of action by these white-robed gliding figures, at amoment when the Senate was about to defy the authority of the Church, brought a superstitious thrill to many hearts within that chamber. 

Among the younger senators it was whispered, in unsteady tones, that amessage delayed for the death of a prince was likely to bringtrouble--messengers, perchance, from another world--when forced again todiscussion. They listened breathlessly for the message; but the figurestill knelt in silence. 

The group of Councillors on the dais swayed and parted against thatwonderful background of Tintoret, the dead Christ and the two Dogesreverently kneeling in proof of the devotion of this Most SereneRepublic. Around the vast and sumptuous chamber, where the proudSignoria assembled, like a council of kings, Venice had chronicled hertriumphs and her religious humility in endless repetition and intimatelyblended, as became her faith; the Doges Priuli, kneeling in prayer;Venice, mounted defiantly on the Lion of Saint Mark; other portraits ofother doges, in attitudes of devotion; other pictures of the Christ, ofthe saints, always symbolic; but over all, --triumphant, beautiful, --withits irresistible sea-tones, cool and strong, Venice, Queen of the Sea, compelling the homage of her rulers, from the ceiling's height. 

Twice the Doge essayed to speak, but the faces of the younger men warnedhim of the danger of such an interruption at a moment when the entirevote had seemed sure, and so filled him with wrath that he dared notspeak until he could control his voice, lest its tremor be mistaken forfear. The moment seemed an hour. 

"Reveal thyself!" Leonardo Donato commanded at last; "and rise!"

The supplicant slowly rose, throwing back her veil, and revealing a facethat was spirit-like in its pallor and beauty, with deep eyes, unfathomably sad. Her maidens gathered close about her, as if to supporther, for she trembled as she stood. 

A low murmur arose. "The Lady of the Giustiniani!"

In all that vast Council Chamber there was no movement, save the slightcommotion among a group of red-robed senators farthest from the throne, who were forcibly detaining the Senator Marcantonio Giustiniani, and theimperative gesture from the dais which had waved him back and hushed hisinvoluntary exclamation of horror. Among the Savii, GiustinianGiustiniani sat livid with anger, close under the eyes of that one calm, terrible Counsellor whose gaze, fastened upon him, rendered speechimpossible. 

"My daughter, " said the Doge, in a tone full of consideration, "this isnot fitting. At another moment we will listen to thy request. Thoumayest withdraw. "

"Serenissimo, Prince of Venice!" Marina cried, stretching forth herhands, "be gracious to me! _Now_ must I speak my message, or it will betoo late--and it hath been granted me in a vision, for the welfare ofthe people of Venice. _If the Ruler of this Republic will win theconsent of the Senate and the Council to comply with the admonitions ofthe Most Holy Father, the day shall be happy for Venice_. "

"Take her away--she is distraught, " commanded one of the Chiefs of theTen, starting forward. 

There was a movement of irresolution among those immediately surroundingthe Doge; but the Lady Marina, like one commissioned for a holy emprise, had no fear. 

"Nay, for I claim my right, as citizen of Venice, to bring my grievanceto the Doge's throne!" she answered proudly. "I am mother to a son whoshall one day take his seat among the nobles of this Council; I amdaughter to a man of the people, --beloved by his own class and honorablyknown, in the records of the Ten, among the industries of Venice, --whohath but now refused the seat of honor they would have granted him, thathe might more truly serve the interests of the people; I am wife to anoble whose ancient name hath been written again and again in records ofhighest service most honorable to the Republic. My grievance is thegrievance of Venice--of the nobles and the people!"

She spoke with the exaltation of inspiration, and there was a hush inthe chamber, as if she had wrought some spell they could not break. 

Presently into this silence a voice--low, clear, emotionless--droppedthe consenting words, "Speak on, that justice be not defrauded by thehalf-told tale. "

Instinctively the eyes of the senators turned to the face of the ChiefCounsellor, whose opinions had ruled the debate for many days past; buthe sat serene and unmoved among his violet-robed colleagues, with notrace of sympathy nor speech upon his placid and inscrutablecountenance. If the words were his they were simply an impartialreminder of duty--they concealed no opinion; the senators were to be thejudges of the scene, and justice required them to listen. 

They gave a quickened interest. 

"I plead for the people, who have no representatives here--for thepeople, who are faithful to the Church and dutiful to the Holy Father;let not this undeserved horror come upon them. Leave them their heaven, who have no earthly paradise!"

The lady's strength seemed failing, for the last words had come morepainfully, though with a ring of passionate indignation. 

Again Marcantonio Giustiniani broke from his detaining colleagues in anattempt to reach his wife; and a second time the hands of theCouncillors waved him back. 

"Spare us this anathema, most gracious Prince!" she cried. "I speak forthe mothers of all the babes of Venice. And oh, my Lords, "--and now thewords came in a low, intense wail, as she turned instinctively andincluded them all in the beseeching motion of her hands, --"if you haveno mercy on yourselves, at least have mercy on your tender little ones!Do not bring damnation on these innocent, helpless children by your ownact. Be great enough to submit to a greater power!"

"It is unseemly, " murmured another of the Councillors, yet low, as ifafraid of his own judgment in a case so strange. 

Leonardo Donato had been in possession of the supreme ducal authoritybut a few weeks, not long enough to unlearn the tone of command and thequick power of decision which had distinguished him as ambassador, whenhe had been chosen with the unanimous approval of this august assembly, to conciliate the court of Rome in the hour of the Republic's greatemergency. His presence of mind returned to him; the scene had lastedlong enough, and the situation was critical. The noble Lady Marina mustbe retired without disgrace, for the honor of the Ca' Giustiniani; but, above all, that she might not heighten the impression which her presencehad already created. And she must be placed where she could exercise nofurther influence, yet in a way that should awaken no commiseration; forshe was beautiful and terribly in earnest, and in her deep eyes therewas the light of a prophet, and all Venice was at her feet. 

The Doge spoke a word low to his Councillors, who sat nearest him oneither side, and they, with decorous signs of approval, passed it on tothe others. Thus fortified he rose, descended the steps of the ducalthrone, and addressed her with grave courtesy; the whole house, as incustom bound, rising also while their prince was standing. 

"We do not forget, most noble Lady Marina Giustiniani, that more thanmany others thou art a daughter of the Republic, being especiallyadopted by the Act of the Signoria; and thy love for Venice winsforgiveness for the strangeness of thy fear that we, her loyal rulers, could work her harm. But thou art distressed and needing rest, from thepain of the vision which thou hast confided to us. We will care forthee, as a father should. 

"Let the noble Senator Marcantonio Giustiniani approach and conduct hislady to private apartments within our palace, where she may rest, withher maidens, until she shall be refreshed. One of our secretaries shallshow the way and remain to see that every aid is bestowed. "

The secretary whom the Doge had designated by a glance had approachedand received a rapid order, spoken in an undertone; Marina had fallen, almost fainting, upon her husband's arm, as he reached her after thepermission so intolerably delayed, yet he dared not move in thatimperious presence without further bidding. His hand stole over hers tocomfort her. She had suffered so much that he could not be angry. 

Leonardo Donato's eyes quickly scanned the faces of the senators, seeking the two least sympathetic. 

"The Senators Morosini and Sagredo will escort them, " he said, "and willreturn in haste with the Senator Giustiniani to do their duty to theRepublic. "

At the door Marina turned again, rallying her failing strength with alast desperate effort, but the words came in a broken, agonized whisper:"O Santissima Maria Vergine! Mater Dolorosa! because thou art thespecial guardian of this Virgin City--and here, in her councils, none ofthy reverend fathers may plead for thee--be merciful, Madre Beatissima!Save us from our doom!"

XIX

As the door closed upon the retreating cortège the attitude of the Dogegrew stern. He turned as if about to address the still standing Senate, when, remembering that he had already assumed the initiative to anunusual degree, and having so recent a recollection of that formidablecoronation oath whose slightest infraction would be visited upon hisnearest of kin, he mounted in silence to his seat and consulted with hisCouncillors until the senators were in their places. Then, in a tone ofauthority, he proclaimed:

"That which hath just occurred within this hall of the Senate shall befor those who have witnessed it as if it had not been, and thesecretaries of the day shall not transcribe it upon their records, sinceit hath already more than sufficiently consumed our time. This vision ofthe lady was doubtless wrought by unwise tampering, being a vision of anature that may gain credence with women--dependent and timid andunversed in law--but with which men and rulers have nothing to do. "

An expression of relief slowly grew upon the faces before him while theDoge was speaking; noting which his words were allowed to produce theirfull effect during the few moments of relaxation and informal talk, which, as was immediately announced by a secretary, would occupy thetime until the return of the three senators--all meanwhile keeping theirseats that no moment might be lost in resuming the important interrupteddebate. 

The strain had been so great, both during the discussion and the visitof the Lady Marina, that there was a willingness among the senators tounbend, to throw aside serious impressions and make light of all dread, as womanish and weak, accepting the Doge's words as leaders. For inthose days the faith of many of the gravest walked only a little wayfrom the borderland of superstition; and it was long since any of theirprinces had held so great a reputation for judgment and diplomacy asLeonardo Donato. 

"The Senate now being complete, " the Doge solemnly announced, immediately upon the return of the three senators, "the interruptedspeech will be concluded, and before the final vote is taken there willbe presented once more before this august body that argument of our mostlearned and venerated Counsellor, Padre Maestro Paolo, upon which thedecision of the Ten hath been based, and upon which the College, theSenate, and the Great Council will presently be called to vote. "

This marshaling of the entire ruling body of the Republic could not failto exercise a steadying power, and neither fear nor irresolution wererevealed to the impressive, penetrating, and commanding gaze ofLeonardo, when the Senator Contarini resumed the speech which had beenso strangely interrupted. The enthusiasm and determination of themorning had returned; the words fell upon a receptive and positiveatmosphere. The opinions of the distinguished Senator carried greatweight, so loyal and catholic was he known to be; and above the portalof the Contarini many times the Lion of St. Mark had proudly rested. 

"We are loyal sons of the Church, " he said, "but no highestecclesiastical court--though with authority from Rome itself--may rulethat any decree of this imperial Senate of Venice, bearing upon Churchand State alike, can be set aside by Church alone. "

"We have not subjected ourselves to being put out of the body of thisChurch, which we revere, by any failure of duty on our part--duty beinga rendering of that which is owed. 

"As citizens of this Republic, our duty in things temporal is owed toour Prince--by right divine; as men, our duty to our Church, by rightdivine, is in things spiritual alone--which we render; but in thingstemporal God gave not the Church rule over us. If, at any point, thesetwo dominions may seem to touch and intersect it is our Prince whodisentangles, by his decree, the twisted thread. For he is Lord over us, who are Venetians and not Romans. "

The words had a ring of victory; enthusiasm spread from face to face, and the house rose in a tumult of approval to express its loyalty, unchecked by any sign of dissent from the dais at a demonstration sounusual. 

But the Contarini saw his advantage and broke in upon the wave offeeling, while an imperative motion from the Chief Counsellor restoredorder for the hearing of an important legal point upon which it wasdesired that action should be based. 

"These laws--whose abrogation the Holy Father doth demand--are ancientrights of Venice, acknowledged by many previous popes, and reaffirmed, in these our own days, after wise and learned scrutiny of ourchancellors, in the light of modern, civic requirements, as needful tothe healthful administration of this realm; as binding upon our Prince, who hath ever in mind the welfare of Venice; and to be upheld by ourpeople who believe in the divine right of princes. They are by thesereverend Councillors also declared non-prejudicial to the spiritualauthority of our Most Holy Church, which this Serene Republic of Venicedoth ever reverently acknowledge. The question is of civil and not ofspiritual rights. "

An enthusiastic senator made a motion for the casting of the final vote, as an expression of the sense of the chamber. The speech of theContarini and the manner of its reception gave pleasing assurance of thegeneral temper of the Senate; the faces of the Doge and of his Saviirecorded the sense of security with which it was needful to impress theassembly, and wore, if possible, a more dignified calm. NeverthelessLeonardo, with his statesman's eye, detected here and there a face thatwas set in an opposite opinion or likely to yield from fear, and hispride decreed that the vote, when cast, should be unanimous. 

Again the Doge consulted his Councillors. 

"The nations will owe us much, " he said, "if our unanimous vote shallrecord the sentiments expressed in this speech of the noble SenatorContarini as the faith and will of this Republic. Never hath there beena greater opportunity to win a triumph for the liberty of princes. 

"Therefore, because the question is weighty, we will request our mostlearned Counsellor and Theologian to the Republic to give us anexposition of the law as it doth appear at this latest moment of ourdiscussion to his judicial mind. "

All Venice knew that Fra Paolo's nerve and knowledge were the centralforces of the resistance of the Republic in this crisis. 

As he moved slowly forward and stood before this magnificent assemblywith the same simple dignity that had characterized him among the friarsof the Servi, --after the splendors of the ducal costume, the scarlet, the ermine, the beretta, the gold-brocaded mantle, --the plain folds ofthe violet robe of the Counsellor seemed almost austere. His linelessface was so fresh in color that it looked youthful, though of singulargravity and refined asceticism. Yet men of force were drawn to himbecause of his strength, his broad grasp of duty, and his absolutefearlessness. 

As he stood for a moment perfectly still before them, his eyes--blue, penetrating, and unrevealing--swept the faces of the assembly with amagnetic glance which compelled their entire attention. The hush was_felt_ among them, and in the silence his voice--clear, passionless, low, and far-reaching--seemed not so much a voice as a suggestion withinthe inner consciousness of his hearers of the thoughts he uttered. Thestrange sense of impersonality which was one of his distinguishingattributes prevented the usual desire for contest with which mostthinking men meet other strong minds, and was, perhaps, a secret of histriumphs. 

"Most Serene Prince, Counsellors, and Nobles of the Council, if you askme of the law as it hath declared itself to my understanding, the matteris simple and quickly to be uttered. 

"The dominion of the Church marches in the paths of heaven; it cannottherefore clash with the dominion of princes, which marches on the pathsof earth. But the Roman court--calling itself the Church--is no longersatisfied with that spiritual dominion to which it hath right, havingbecome aggressive and seeking to impose doctrines far removed from theprimitive law of the Church. "

There was a slight pause, while the quiet eyes held his audience with achallenge of assent; the faces of those who were unqualifiedly with himin doctrine grew eager; here and there a dignified head bowed, unaware, as if surrendering some belief. 

"Christ himself hath said, 'My kingdom is not of this world, ' and thepower of the Sovereign Pontiff over Christians is not limitless, but isrestricted to spiritual matters and hath for rule the Divine Law. 

"If the Pope, to enforce his commands--unlawful when they exceed theauthority given him by Christ--fulminates his interdict, it is unjustand null; in spite of the reverence owed to the Holy See, it should notbe obeyed. 

"Seven times before hath Venice been so banned--and _never_ for anythingthat had to do with religion!"

Again that strange, slight, emphatic pause, as if he need wait but amoment for his reasoning to dissipate any conscious unwillingness. 

The Contarini quoted low to his neighbor a recent _bon mot_ of theSenate, "Everybody hath a window in his breast to Fra Paolo;" forseveral senators of families closely allied to Rome started at theboldness of the thought, and exchanged furtive glances of disapproval, and the fearless eye of the friar immediately fixed upon them, holdingand quieting them as they moved restlessly to evade his glance. It wasas if he assured them silently, "I speak that I do know; cease to opposetruth; let yourselves believe. " And resistance lessened before theimpersonality of the pleader. 

"One of the fathers tells us that an excommunication is null when itwould usurp over citizens the right of their prince. '_By me kings reignand princes decree justice_'--it is the word of God. "

There was no need of further pauses in the quiet flow of words, forthere was no longer any resistance; the Senate and Council hungbreathless upon his speech, which answered every misgiving; they knewthat his reading of canon law had never been questioned in Rome itself;the man spoke with immense authority. But there was no triumph in hisbearing as he tuned the atmosphere of that august assembly into absoluteharmony, conquering every discordant note--only a further lowering ofthe quiet voice, which seemed to utter, unchallenged, the conclusions ofeach listener. 

"The Sacred Canons agree that a Pope is liable to error and fallible incases of special judgment. 

"Isaiah denounces such legislation, 'Woe unto them that decreeunrighteous decrees. '

"Wherefore I declare the justice of the cause of the Republic, and thenullity of any judgment that may be pronounced against her in thismatter. 

"Nor shall evil befall one for a sin not committed, nor can there bedisobedience to a mandate which hath been issued, without lawfulauthority, by him who proclaims it; and authority, transcended, is nolonger lawful. "

XX

When Marcantonio, finally released from his long day of service in theSenate Chamber, sought the private apartments of the Doge, where Marinawith her maidens was waiting for him, he found her lying back, wan andspiritless, in one of the great gold and crimson arm-chairs of the statesalon; her eyes were closed, her lips were moving in prayer, but herrosary had dropped from her weak clasp. Some of her maidens, as thusdoing their lady truest service, were still kneeling with hopelesspetitions to the Holy Mother to avert the doom from Venice; but one, theLady Beata, who was tenderly devoted to her, had not ceased from effortsto rouse her with nameless little gracious cares. She was watching forMarcantonio, to whom she signed eagerly to hasten, as the guard of theDoge permitted him to pass the doorway. 

"Thus hath our lady been, and naught hath moved her, " she said low, andin distress, "since the Secretary of the Serenissimo, who with muchfutile reasoning hath sought to change her, hath taken his leave, savethat ever and anon she hath opened her eyes to watch the door and bid uspray for Venice. "

Her husband had reached her side and taken her listless hand beforeMarina had noticed his approach; but there was no smile in her eyes asshe raised them to his--only a look of unutterable misery. 

"Is there no hope?" she questioned. Her fingers, weakly folded abouthis, were burning. 

He controlled himself with a great effort. 

"Yes, carina, every hope. All is well; and the Serenissimo hath beenmost gracious. To-morrow, when thou hast had thy rest, he will send tothee the Reverend Counsellor Padre Maestro Paolo, that he may quiet allthy fears. For all is well. "

She tried to draw him nearer, but her hand dropped powerless. "Thevote?" she questioned, with her eager eyes; and, more falteringly, withthat hoarse, broken whisper which pierced his heart. 

"It is well, " he answered her tenderly. "Carinissima, all is well. "

She fixed him with terror-stricken eyes, in which her soul seemedburning and her lips moved with a question he could not hear. He bentcloser, touching her cheek caressingly. 

"The vote?" she had asked again. 

"Tell her the count, " said the Lady Beata, with an imperious touch onhis wrist; "it is killing her. "

The Senate had adjourned in triumph; without a dissenting voice Venicehad rallied to the support of her prince. Marcantonio had thought heshould be proud to tell her of this unanimous action of their augustbody, which could not fail to restore her confidence and quiet herfears. But now he could not find the words he sought, for never had helooked into eyes so full of a comprehending woe. 

"Marina, " he began. "Carinissima--" helplessly repeating his powerlessassurance: "It is well. "

Still her deep eyes seemed to question him relentlessly, though she didnot speak; her gaze fascinated him, and he could not withdraw his eyesuntil he had read in hers the great agony he had so lightlyestimated--the agony of a soul deeply religious, of unquestioning faithin the strictest doctrine and dogma of the Church of Rome; the grief ofsuch a soul, tenderly compassionate for the suffering brought upon aninnocent people by no rebellion of its own; the terror of thissoul--passionately loving--measuring the horrors of an unblessed lifeand death for all its dearest ones. 

"All?" she had seemed to question him, leaning nearer, and Marcantoniocould not answer; but he saw, from the deepening horror in her eyes, that she understood. She knew that _he_ had helped to bring the doom. Oh, if he could but have told her that he had not voted--that he hadwithheld his one little vote from Venice to comfort her! If, for thisonce, he had failed to give what Venice expected of him, only forMarina's sake!

He bent over her passionately, a thousand reasons rushing to his rescue, clamoring to be told her. "Marina, beloved, there is nothing to fear!"he cried desperately, eager for his own defense, resolute to make hercomprehend the perfect safety of Venice, to calm the beseeching horrorin her eyes; "Fra Paolo will come!"

Her gaze relaxed, her eyelids quivered and closed; she had fainted. 

--Or was it death?

He folded her to his heart with a cry of desolation. 

The Lady Beata hastily thrust him aside and opened the white robe at thethroat, and Marcantonio started back; there were stripes of half-healedlaceration on the tender flesh--some fresh, as if but just raised by thelash. 

"Ay, my lord, " Beata answered very low, to his quick, grieved question;"all that a daughter of the Church may do hath our lady added to herprayers for Venice. She hath been rigorous in fasting and in penanceuntil her strength is gone; but the pain of it she feeleth not, becauseof the greater pain of her soul, which is lost in supplication thatavaileth naught. "

Leonardo Donato would be very gracious to the Lady of the Giustiniani, though she had come so near to costing the city a divided vote, becausehe had seen the misery in her eyes with her great love for Venice, andbecause the Council had so declared its vote for the State that he couldafford to be magnanimous. Nay, since even the Senator Marcantonio hadnot flinched before that wonderful agonized white face, he need notconfine her, as he had intended, in a convent for decorous keeping; hewas glad of the change in her favor which would prevent the harshnessthat might have increased her influence to the degree of danger. Hesent, instead, a gracious message by his secretary--"Might the fatherpay a visit to his daughter of the Republic to inquire of her welfareand assure her of his favor, before she returned to her palace?"

But the message of courtesy, sent by the Doge himself, had been stayedon the threshold of his own state salon. 

 * * * * *

The Republic had, indeed, quitted herself nobly in her vote; so valianta blow had she struck for the rights of princes that this consciousnessrang out in the bold tones of her announcement to the courts ofEurope--"Which things we have thought best to tell you for your soleinformation, so that if mention be made of them to you, and not else, you may be able to answer to the purpose and to justify this our mostrighteous cause. "

And from the moment that the Senate had been unofficially apprised byNani that the terrible Interdict was already printed and would presentlybe fulminated, every possible precaution of self-defense had been put inoperation throughout the dominions of Venice, with an ingenuity, aforesight, and a celerity which the watching courts of Europe not onlyviewed with amazement, but accepted as an evidence of the consciouspower and justice of the Republic. Overtures came fast from England, from Spain, from France--every monarch wished some share in thepacification between these courts of Rome and Venice. 

Meanwhile, in Venice life went on superbly. There was no question of anyspiritual disfranchisement; these sons of the Church were not underinterdict, having committed no sin which laid them open to that charge. Moreover, no ban had been _published_ throughout the wide extent oftheir domain. Hence, for the Venetians, there was no interdict, whateverawful anathema might be affixed to those distant doors of Saint Peter'sin Rome; with whatever voice of anger its terrors might be thundered atthe Holy See, against rulers, people, priests, and sacraments within thedoomed city--the wide waters of the lagoon laved its shores inbenediction, like a baptismal charm upon the fair front of Venice, against which the Curse threatened impotently. 

At the centre of this superb and daring court sat a friar, trained fromhis childhood up in the customs, traditions, and beliefs of his Churchand of his order--a reverent practitioner in her fasts and sacraments, simple in his habits as a hermit-monk, faithful in his religious dutiesas the most punctilious priest in Rome, sure in his faith that God woulduphold the right, and asserting, without compromise, that right was onthe side of Venice. 

What a stay for rulers who fortified their every position by some appealto precedent--who would punctiliously know the source and interpretationof every law upon which they rested!

Above all, what a stay for the simple people who, in these days ofbewildering conflict, knew not what to believe!

Would Masses go on, and the church doors be open and the sacramentscontinue? Might they still take their brides and baptize their littleones, and follow their dead to burial, and sign the sign of the cross, in token of the favor of heaven--as loyal sons of the Church?

And would the Madre Beata--blessed guardian of this Virgin City--stillsmile upon them from all the separate shrines of Venice?

Should the labor and the imprecation of this simple people go on untilthe evening in their wonted flow, and should nothing fail them of thebenedictions they had known?

It was a mystery; but threatening Rome was far and unfamiliar, andVenice they knew--present, protecting, peremptory--impossible todisobey. 

Before the commands of the angry Pontiff could reach the heads of theorders in Venice, people, priests, and prelates throughout the dominionswere forewarned; they must continue in every accustomed practice oftheir religion; they might neither receive nor publish any minatorypapers--these must be instantly brought to the government, underseverest penalties. 

Offending prelates were brought from distant sees to meet thedispleasure of the Republic; hesitating priests were silently hastenedto decision by scaffolds, looming suddenly within their precincts. Whileleaflets--expressly prepared to disaffect the Venetians--proclaimingthat no obedience was due from a people to its prince under censure;that all vows, contracts, and duties between man and man, husband andwife, children and parents were nullified for those who remainedfaithful to the Church in acknowledging the censure, as against thosewho disclaimed it--these leaflets, introduced by secret agents of thePontiff and interdicted by the Republic, flowed in vast numbers, butsilently, into the hands of the Ten, and were seen no more. 

Meanwhile that terrible thing which the people had vaguely feared had_not_ come upon them; though at first they paused, half-hearted, whenthey passed the house of the Tintoret, where the quaint figure of"Ser-Robia, " the Pasquino of Venice, had often a bit of news that thepeople cared to hear, grotesquely placarded over his broad mouth. He wasa good friend to the people, Ser-Robia, and gave them many a pleasantbit of gossip to cheer their evening stroll; but it was wise not tolaugh until one had heard the words, and there was often a priest or ascholar near to tell the meaning to those who could not spell it out forthemselves. Always, in these days, there was some one who could read tothe people, for this was that solemn "protest" of "Leonardo Donato, bythe Grace of God Doge of Venice, " etc. , wherewith the most ChristianRepublic defied the interdict. Here, along the Rialto, in all the publicsquares of Venice, on the doors of the churches, --wherever proclamationwas wont to be made, --the people might pause and read this consolingword of Venice, instead, perchance, of some copy of the interdict whichhad been smuggled into the city and pasted, surreptitiously, over theDoge's "protest, " but which those faithful _Signori di Notte_--thenight-watch of Venice--were sure to destroy before the morning dawned. 

"To the Most Reverend the Patriarchs, Archbishops, and Bishops of ourVenetian Dominions, " said this "Protest, " "and to the Vicars, Abbots, Priors, Rectors of Parochial Churches, and other EcclesiasticalPrelates, greeting:" forthwith proceeding to declare that "the Interdictwhich his Holiness was 'said' to have published was null and void, andforbidden to be observed--not having been incurred by any fault ofVenice. "

But even those who could not read soon recognized the features of thatmessage, which met them everywhere, hiding the scars of other messageswhich they must not see. 

"No, no, " they said, with laughing thanks to some friendly interpreterwho stood near; "it is enough; _va bene_--we know it like our AveMaria!"

But sometimes a family group came back for a word, when the others hadscattered. 

"Thou, Gigio, tell the good padre!" says the bright-eyed youngcontadina, pulling the gray sleeve of her fisherman who stands stolidlybeside her. 

"_Si, si_, " he answers indifferently, shrugging his shoulders andrelapsing into silence, as he pushes his wife and mother before him fora refuge; for the men of the islands were less at home in argument withthe priests than were the women of their households. 

"It is thus, your Reverence, " the young woman explains cheerily. "It isthe grandmother who is afraid. Santa Maria! _how_ she is afraid!" Shetouches her forehead significantly. 

The simple old woman, comprehending only that they speak of her, drops acourtesy, looking furtively about her with troubled eyes, and fumblingover her beads; the "protest" has no meaning for her, although it iswritten in good Venetian. 

But a few words suffice for such as these who have caught only somevague hint of the Holy Father's displeasure, and are reassured by theopen church and the promise of Mass and benediction. 

It is those others who make trouble; they come, from time to time, --bytwos and threes, never alone, --and read for themselves, with loweringbrows, but ask no questions. And sometimes, if they watch too silently, the courteous friar who has graciously interpreted the message which isabove the heads of the crowd, exchanges a glance of intelligence withsome gay young signor who belongs to the great army of secretservice--as revealed to the friar on guard by the password of the day;and the sullen-browed group is courteously accosted by the youngnoble--"Excuse me, signori, you are strangers in Venice; a gondola iswaiting to conduct you to the palace. "

They will be tried as secret agents of the enemy. But resistance israre, for an escort of guards pours out from the doorways and calles, ifa stiletto but gleam in the sunlight; and no secret agent may cope withVenice in promptness of self-defense and ingenuity of prevention. 

It is interesting in the campo in these early days, before the effect ofthe government's measures for coercing the opinions of the populace isfully declared. 

"I am a good Catholic, most reverend father; I keep the mariegole; everyyear I go to confession, " protests some sturdy gondolier, who has beenmade anxious by his womenfolk. "And many a fare I pay to light thetraghetto of San Nicolò; with an ave for the favor of the Blessed Motherto confound the scoundrel Castellani, who threw a good Nicolotto overthe Ponte Senza Parapetti, in the last fight; and it cost us oil enoughto light Venice for a year--faith of San Nicolò!--to keep them fromwinning at our regatta--_maledetti_!"

For even those gondoliers who kept the mariegole were not preciselyangels, and the part of their creed which they religiously upheld was adeathless antagonism to the rival faction which won more lamps andpretty gifts for the patron madonnas of the various traghetti than anyother article of their faith. 

To a few, chiefly women with devout, sad faces--watchers, perchance, beside beds over which the shadow of death is creeping--the padre tellscompassionately of consoling, helpful words that are preached daily inthe great deserted church of _I Gesuiti_; for in this parish, more thanothers, there are difficulties, since it had been the centre of thedisaffection. But now its doors are ceaselessly open for a refuge; noservice is omitted, no sacrament denied; and daily, before vespers, thepeople may listen to a few simple words from Fra Paolo. Thither, inthese early days of the struggle, the crowd flocks, drawn partly bycuriosity to hear a man of whom it is whispered that he has just beenindividually put under the greater excommunication by the HolyInquisition, because of his attitude in this quarrel. 

There is much talk of Fra Paolo sifting about the church and square, where the gathering of the people shows a sprinkling of red-robedsenators; for the Padre Maestro Paolo, which is his title since he hasbeen Consultore to the Republic, is a great man now, with a greatnessthat means something to the populace, to whom letters and sciences arenothings. But the Consultore is the friend of Venice; he is _their_friend--coming each day to talk to the people. "It is not true thatgreat trouble has come upon Venice, for Fra Paolo makes it all quiteplain, and he knows everything, " they say; "our padre in San Marcuolo islike a bimbo to him! The Jesuit Fathers went too soon, and might havespared themselves the burning of their papers and their treasure. SantaMaria!--what is it they are saying about Fra Paolo finding the die formaking money that the _padri_ left behind? What is a 'die, ' Luigi? Ifthou hadst had the sense to bring thy boat to clear away the rubbish, instead of thinking there are only fish in the world, thou mightest havehad the luck to find it; it must be better than working lace bobbins allthe week for a handful of _soldi_ that wouldn't buy one macaroni!"

"Peace, then, with thy babble!"

"See, then, the holy water is quite safe; I saw our padre cross himselfby that first basin. Thou hast done well, --_hein_ Luigi, --to bring mefrom Burano, if there are _no_ fish to-morrow at the Ave Maria; for nowwe can sleep in peace! They told such tales of I Gesuiti, one thoughtthe devils were having a holiday--Santa Maria!"

"The women are worse for chattering, " Luigi retorts, with a forcibleimprecation. "Here cometh the Consultore--hold thy tongue. "

"No, no, Luigi; it is only a frate from the Servi; Fra Paolo is a greatman, with a robe like the Serenissimo; he might wear a crown if heliked! Ah, to be great like that!"

But Fra Paolo and his secretary wore the grave garb of their order, tothe great disappointment of the younger women, who had been attracted bythe expectation of some pomp. 

"Word hath reached the Contarini secretly from Rome, " said one senatorto another, as the Consultore passed them, "that they have foundthemselves a new diversion before the palace of the Vatican, and thatsome of our great ones here are burned in effigy to instruct thepopulace. A pile of Fra Paolo's writings doth light the funeral pyre;and all that he hath written or _may hereafter write_ is placed upon theIndex. "

"_Davvero_! his words would make me wrathful if I held the views of hisHoliness, who may well fear the incontrovertibility of his wit. But ourConsultore looketh a simple man to have been shown such honor!"

"He beareth honors bravely, " the other answered, with due appreciationof the humor; "but lately, when the master Galileo was before the Senatewith his telescope, he had a pretty tale of Gian Penelli and Ghetaldo, wherewith in Padua Fra Paolo hath won the title of 'the miracle of thecentury. '"

"I heard it not; some commission held me at the arsenal; San Marco bethanked that it is over!"

"Ebbene, old Penelli--gouty so that he can scarce move--hath a visitfrom our great mathematician Ghetaldo, who findeth with our magnificentpatron of letters a friar to whom Penelli showeth such honor--limping tothe door with him, as if he were a prince--that Ghetaldo, wrathful atthis foolish waste over a friar, asketh his name with scorn. And is notbetter pleased when Penelli telleth that Fra Paolo is the 'miracle ofthe age in every science. ' 'So, I will prove it, ' saith Penelli, 'forverily the world knoweth the great Ghetaldo for a mathematician! Come, then, with problems the most difficult thou canst prepare, on a day itmay please thee to name, and meet Fra Paolo at my table, without warningto him. ' _Ecco_! Penelli is subtle; great satisfaction and much labor onthe part of our mathematician. Enter Fra Paolo, --simple, unadvised, --solves the propositions at a hearing. 'Miraculous!' criesthe superb Ghetaldo, gentle as a lamb! A friendship for life, and FraPaolo is the teacher! But it is more wonderful to hear the tales of howhe preacheth to the people here, in the Gesuiti. Let us follow, for hegiveth them not many minutes, for fear of wearying them. We need liftour mantles high, for the pavement is like a market garden of Mazzorbo, with broken bits from the women's baskets--Faugh!"

The splendid senators seldom mingled in such a crowd, except at guardeddistances, to make a pageant for it; it was picturesque, shabby, malodorous, composed chiefly of young women with bright-eyed babies andbaskets emitting unctuous savors of _frittola_ and garlic; now and thenan old peasant who could not be tranquil until she had heard Fra Paolospeak was escorted by a rebellious grandson, bribed to quiet by thepromise of a _soldo_ for his little game of chance; occasionally a man, impatient to have done with it all and get out on the canal again, movedrestlessly from place to place; only here and there the dim light showeda face pathetic in its questioning, to whom the answer meant life ordeath. 

"What hath a man of such rare powers and learning to do with thesesimple ones--a man whose time is precious to the State?"

The noble senators withdrew a little from the crowd to watch the scene, as they put the question to each other; their servants brought themchairs within the shadow of a column. 

They did not know that few are great enough in an age of superstition tohold a conscience uncontrolled by traditions, and a primitive faithsimple as a child's, with the tenacity of a strong man; there had beennothing in his labors at the Senate to call forth this most sacred sideof his reserved nature, and they did not understand that it was to thishe owed much of the marvelous poise of will and judgment which kept himunspoiled in spite of intellectual gifts that would have ruined himwithout his absolute dependence on the One Supreme. But on this sacredside alone was there any entrance to his emotions. 

Fra Paolo was not speaking from the pulpit; he stood beside a table thathad been placed in the nave, and the people gathered close about him, aschildren near a father, while he opened a great vellum-bound volume withmassive golden clasps, which his secretary had brought from the libraryof the Servi. 

"Come nearer, " he called to them simply, beckoning with his hand, "sothat all may hear; put the old people and the little ones nearest. "

He looked around him, not smiling, but very quiet and patient, as if hewere waiting for the slight confusion to subside; for at first theypushed each other rudely to get closer. 

"There is room for all, " he said, "in God's house;" and as he lookedinto their faces each felt that it was a word to him, and held hisbreath to listen--which suddenly seemed quite easy! The smaller childrennestled contentedly on their mothers' arms, munching some dainty broughtto keep them quiet, and fascinated by the low, clear voice, watched withround, solemn eyes to see if he would smile; while two or three who weretall enough to reach just over the edge of the table steadied themselvesby clutching it with their chubby hands, dropping their hold of theirmothers' mantles--for the pages were full of pretty colors, and thevoice of the padre was like a lullaby to keep them still, and they werenot afraid--at all. 

Fra Paolo never gave the people many words, but sometimes they werestrong and beautiful, like an old poem, and in their own Venetian--notin the Latin which had been made for the great ones. 

"It was a wonderful book, written long ago, " he told them; "before theBishop of Altinum fled with his people to Torcello and built the oldDuomo; before Venice began to be. "

Many of them did not know there was _anything_ so old as that! Theylooked at each other and began to think. 

"And it was written for the comfort of every one who loveth God, ourFather, whatever his troubles may be. See what is written here for anywho fear that the consolations of our holy religion shall be taken away. For that is what you fear?"

They looked at each other, hesitating. "Si, si--yes--" timidly. "No, no, " more bravely. 

Fra Paolo smiled. 

"No!" they said, distinctly. 

"If any of you are afraid, " Fra Paolo said, looking full into theirfaces as they pressed nearer, "because the fathers of this church havegone away and left you, there are words in this old book--written longago, before there was any Venice--to condemn those who would close thechurches. 'Woe be unto the pastors that destroy and scatter the sheep ofmy pasture, ' saith the Lord. 'Behold, I will visit upon them the evil oftheir doings, saith the Lord. ' 'Where is the flock that was given thee, thy beautiful flock?'"

"And here are some words that are written for you--whom they havedeserted. 'Thus saith the Lord: again there shall be heard in thisplace, _which ye say shall be desolate_, the voice of joy and the voiceof gladness; the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride; andof them that shall bring the sacrifice of praise into the house of theLord. ' It is all very simple. Love God and pray to him, and be faithfulin your duty. And he will keep you happy and safe from harm. "

The ringing treble of children's voices sounded through the open door ofthe sacristy and distracted the attention of the congregation, whoturned to watch the choristers as they came in sight, by twos and twos, chanting the canticle, "Praise the Lord of Hosts; for the Lord is good;for His mercy endureth forever!"

While Fra Paolo slipped away unnoticed. 

XXI

So life went on, and those who looked to see the people fail and falterunder this burden which the rebellion of their rulers had brought uponthem saw them, with unshaken confidence, still loyally upholding thebanner of Saint Mark. Preparations for war--marshaling of soldiers, building of galleys, increased activities at the arsenal--enlarged theindustries and added a judicious vivacity to the life of the people. 

There was no war declared; but it was a time when border-lands should belooked to and bravery encouraged and the martial spirit developed; andthe ever politic Senate tickled the fancy of its pleasure-loving peoplewith the pomp of a fête, on the day when the newly createdgeneral-in-chief of the armies of the Republic assembled, with fanfareof trumpets and roaring of cannon, his splendidly appointed corps in thePiazza, the people thronging the arcades, crowding the windows andbalconies, waving and shouting, as the stately escort of three hundrednobles, in crimson robes, led the way to San Marco for solemndedication. And here, like a knight vowed to holiest service, thegeneral knelt before the altar, while the Patriarch blessed his sword. "In defense of Venice and the right, " with a memory of the oldbattle-cry of the Republic. 

 "Non nobis, Domine--sed tibi gloria!"

And the people, accepting as a favor the pageant which had beencunningly devised to impress them, followed, thronging, up the giantstairway, into the halls of the Council Chamber, into the statelypresence of the Serenissimo and the Signoria, to hear their latestmagnate profess his gratitude for the honor of his investiture and themagnificence of his outfit, with solemn oaths of loyalty. 

There was no war, though talk of it had little truce in those days; butthe cardinal nephews were busy in Ferrara and Ancona with the marshalingof troops, and four of the princes of the Church had been appointed bythe Holy Father--vice-regent of the Prince of Peace--to superintend hismilitary operations and prepare his army of forty thousand infantry andfour thousand cavalry! Thus, in Venice, the spectacle of ageneral-in-chief, with his splendid accoutrements, was timely andinspiriting. 

Meanwhile, in the palazzo Giustiniani the days dragged wearily, and knewno sunshine; the Senator Marcantonio had been by special favor excusedfrom attendance in the Council Chamber; in his mind Venice was no longerregnant; one thought absorbed him wholly through all that miserabletime--he had but one hope--everything centred in Marina. 

When they had undressed her to apply restoratives a small, roughcrucifix had been taken from the folds of her robe near her heart; ithad belonged to Santa Beata Tagliapietra, --that devoted daughter of theChurch, --and the Lady Beata herself had given the precious heirloom outof the treasures of the chapel of their house to her beloved LadyMarina. Possibly she reflected, with a shudder, as she laid the relic onthe altar of the oratory of the palazzo Giustiniani, that theremembrance of the constant dangers of Santa Beata had incited the LadyMarina thus to peril her life. Of the long nights of vigil on the floorof the oratory and of many other austerities which had filled those lastsad days since the quarrel with Rome had begun, the Lady Beata wasforced to give faithful account to the physicians who were summoned inimmediate consultation to the bedchamber of the Lady Marina. Thesepractices and the horror upon which she had dwelt ceaselessly wouldsufficiently account for her condition, said the learned ProfessorSantorio; and if she could but forget it there might be hope; meanwhile, let her memory lie dormant--at present nothing must be done to rouseher. 

Perhaps already she had forgotten it; for the shock had been great andlife was at a very low ebb; had all memory gone from her of her life andlove? They thought she knew them, but she expressed no wish; shescarcely spoke; lying listless and white under the heavy canopy of thegreat carved bedstead, which had become the centre of every hope inthose two palaces on the Canal Grande, while the absorbing life of theDucal Palace, so little distant, was for Marcantonio as though it didnot exist. In that time of waiting--he knew not how long it was norwhat was passing--life was a great void to him, echoing with oneagonized hope; time had no existence, except as an indefinite point whenMarina should come back to him with her soul and heart in her eyes oncemore. 

He had gathered the few books from her oratory and boudoir, and atintervals when he could control his thought he pored over them, treasuring every faint pencil-line, every sentence blotted by tears, asan indication of having specially occupied her. Now that he could nolonger discuss these moods, how eagerly he sought for the light shewould so gladly have given him in those past, happier days!

In vain he asked of the Lady Beata whether they had discussed thesethoughts together--whether Fra Francesco had brought her the little wornvolumes. 

"My lord, I know not, " she answered coldly, resolved in her own heart totell him nothing that he did not already know, since only now it hadpleased him to concern himself with that religious attitude which wascosting Marina so dearly. For the whole strength of the love she wouldonce have yielded him for the asking, the Lady Beata now lavished uponMarina, in jealous devotion. 

But he could not be angry with Fra Francesco, who had only been faithfulin sharing his belief with her, while he, her husband, had refused tohelp her. "My God!" he groaned; "why are we blind until the anguishcomes!"

As he drearily paced the stately chambers--so empty without Marina--whatwould he not have given to hear her voice again repeat those eagerquestions he had been so willing to repress! How could it ever havevexed him that she should wish to understand the question that wasoccupying Venice! But now he remembered having grown less and lesspatient with her as she had returned to this theme, until, inself-defense, she had said with gentle dignity, yet half-surprised athis irritation:

"Marco, have a little patience with me. Remember that our young noblesare trained in knowledge of these laws of Venice from quite earlyboyhood. "

"It is part training, if thou wilt, " he had answered lightly; "or inthese questions women are stupid--I know not. But these matters concernthem not. " And after that, he remembered now with shame, she hadtroubled him no more, and he had felt it a relief; for during the fewdiscussions they had had together he had been aware that they approachedthe question from a radically different point of view. He had nevertaken the trouble to comprehend her ground nor to give her reasons forhis own; he had simply made assertions, with a sense of irritation thatany repetition should be called for in a matter quite out of a woman'sprovince; for the women of Venice had no part in that salon influence onpolitics which was ascribed to their sisters of France, and her attemptsto gain understanding for a personal judgment had chafed him like aninterference in his own special field. He, with his subtly trainedintellect and legal knowledge, could so easily have convinced her, hetold himself remorsefully; but he had not taken the trouble even to lookthrough her lens, while she had been so eager to understand his point ofview--and only that she might reach the truth!

Now he had much time to understand it all! He recalled a strange, hurtlook when her questions had ceased, but it had not troubled him then;she would forget it, --would understand that he preferred to talk aboutother things, --he had said to himself, and he had been careful ingracious little ways to show her that he was not displeased. And she hadbeen wise and had vexed him no more; there had been no arguments on thisor any other theme. And then the days of strain had come and the laborsof the Council had absorbed him. Now he saw that she had been too proudand strong to subject herself to repeated insinuations of inferiority ofunderstanding, as she had been too loving and dutiful to prolong thecontest. And so--he groaned aloud as his mistake revealed itself to himin those long, unhappy hours--he had lost the dear opportunity ofleading her aright; for he contemplated but one possible issue of suchan attempt on his part; he had scorned her entreaty when she came to himfor understanding of a mystery that was killing her, and he had drivenher to take up the study alone, with the help of her father confessor, who knew but one side of the vexed question, and that _not_ the side ofVenice!

He was sure that it was a matter of conscience and not of contest withMarina, therefore she _must_ know; he should have realized that! How hadFra Francesco met her questions? Had he told her it was a matter beyondthe comprehension of women? Or had he been patient with her difficultiesand solved them with terrible positiveness? Was it he who had broughther these manuals on "Fasts and Penances, " "The Use and Nature of theInterdict, " "The Duty of the Believer, " which completed for her thepictures of horror her faith had already outlined? Marcantonio had takenin all their dread meaning in rapid glances. How could she believe thoseterrible things he had seen in her eyes--those terrible, terriblethings!

Nay, how should she not believe them? And how implicitly she must havebelieved them to have endured so much in hope of averting this doom!

"Marina! Carina!" his heart went out to her in a great wail of pity; awoman--so tender, so young--kneeling at night in her chapel, alone withthe vision of the horror she was praying to avert; bearing the fastingand the penance and the weakness, all alone, in the hope that God wouldbe merciful; gathering up her failing strength so bravely for thatthankless scene in the Senate. And he, her husband, who had never meantthat his love should fail her, could have spared her all this pain by alittle comprehension! Could she ever forgive him? And would sheunderstand some day? Might he reason it all out lovingly with her whenher strength came back to her--"For baby's sake!" that sweet, womanly, natural plea which he had disregarded?

"Signor Santorio, " he moaned, "if I might but reason with her, I mightcure her!"

"Nay, " said Santorio, "not yet; the shadow hath not left her eyes. Lether forget. "

She had been growing stronger, they said, doing quite passively thethings they asked of her toward her restoration; she recognized themall, but she expressed neither wish nor emotion, lying chiefly withclosed eyes in the cavernous depths of the great invalid chair wherethey laid her each day, yet responding by some movement if they calledher name--rarely with any words; nothing roused her from that mood ofunbroken brooding. 

"She will not forget, " the great Santorio said in despair. "We must tryto rouse her. Let her child be brought. "

The ghost of a smile flitted for an instant about her pale lips and overthe shadowy horror in her eyes, as Marcantonio leaned over her withtheir boy in his arms. "Carina, " he cried imploringly, "our little oneneedeth thee!"

She half-opened her arms, but this wraith of the mother, he remembered, frightened the child, who clung sobbing to his father. 

Marina fell back with a cry of grief, struggling for the words whichcame slowly--her first connected speech since her illness. "It is thecurse! It parts even mothers and children!"

A strange strength seemed to have come to her; a sudden light gleamed inher eyes; she turned from one to the other, as if seeking some one inauthority to answer her question, and fixed upon Santorio's as thestrongest face. 

"The official acts of a Pope are infallible?" she questioned, withfeverish insistence, after the first futile attempt to speak. "The HolyFather who succeeds him may not undo his acts of mercy?"

"Yes, yes, it is true, " Santorio assented, waiting eagerly for thesequence. 

A little color had crept into her cheeks; her hands were burning; theygrasped the physician's arm like a vise; the change was alarming. 

"The edict cannot hurt my baby! Santissima Maria, thou hast saved him!"she cried. "For he hath the special blessing of his Holiness PopeClement, and our Holy Father cannot reach him with this curse ofVenice!"

"We cannot keep her mind from it, " said Santorio, aside to Marcantonio;"it is essential to calm it with the right view--no argument, it mightinduce the most dangerous excitement. Send for some bishop or theologianwho takes the right view; let him present it as a fact, and withauthority; her life depends upon it. "

He leaned down to his patient in deep commiseration to tell her that allwas well--that Venice was under no ban, that God's blessing stillshielded her churches and her children; but she raised her eyes steadilyto his, and the strength of the belief, which he saw clearly writtenwithin them, filled him with awe and hushed his speech. How was itpossible to make her understand!

"Nay, " said Marina faintly, still holding him with her sad, solemn eyes, "do not speak. Since Fra Francesco comes no more there is but one whospeaketh truth to me. It is the vision of my beautiful Mater Dolorosa ofSan Donato, which leaveth me not. "

There was a stir in the depths of the streets below--a noise of thepopulace coming nearer, following along the banks of the Canal Grande, as if the cause of their excitement were in some hurried movement onits placid waters; the shouts and jeers of the strident voices werebroken by authoritative commands of the Signori della Notte--theofficers of police--and the tramp of their guards failing to createorder; and above the hubbub rose the cry, distinctly repeated again andagain--the cry of an angry populace, "Andè in malora! Andè in malora!"("Curses go with you!")

XXII

Even Giustinian Giustiniani came and went heavily, asking for the latestchange before he returned to the Senate Chamber, and carrying with himalways a vision of that white, pleading face which had so wrought uponhis anger when he had seen it luminous with her hope for Venice. But nowhis anger was transferred to her confessor who had bewitched her, to allthose Roman prelates who had paid her court--a mere child, not able todefend herself nor to understand, killing herself for a question beyondher! And Marcantonio, for love of her, useless and unmanned! It was morethan his senatorial pride could endure to find himself powerless undersuch complications. To appease his wrath he denounced Fra Francescothrough the Bocca di Leone, but when the friar was sought for, by orderof the Ten, he was not found. Fra Paolo was appealed to, for he was thefriend of the gentle confessor; but he had not known his plans. "If hisconscience held him not, it was well for him to flee, " he said, "andbest for Venice. "

But when Fra Paolo was alone in his cell, which, in those days ofgreatness, he would not exchange for quarters at the Ducal Palace thoughthe Senate pleaded, the memory of a confidential talk held since thisquarrel with Rome began brought a hint of the reason for this suddenflight. 

He was tender of conscience and strong of faith, this good FraFrancesco; always sad, but never stern toward Fra Paolo's failure tohold a belief implicit as his own in some doctrines of his belovedChurch which he held to be vital. Yet his reverence for Fra Paolo'sgreat knowledge and holy life made him unwilling to criticize where heunconsciously questioned. It was the severest test of friendship to keephis faith and affectionate devotion in one who was taking so prominent apart in a movement opposing papal authority; but sometimes, when FraPaolo had uttered many things he would not have tolerated in any otherpriest, Fra Francesco said only to himself, in great sadness, "It is Godwho maketh men different; we do not know the why!"

The gentle friar sometimes wondered in himself that he could not openlysay to Fra Paolo when they met, after matins, the many things which hadlain hot in his heart through the night--for how _could_ it be right tooppose the supreme authority? But when the placid face of his friend methis, bathed in the fresh benediction of his altar service--new eachmorning and never omitted--he forgot the horror with which he had beenreasoning that Fra Paolo was hastening the curse upon Venice. 

But if Fra Paolo derived no added _finesse_ for his masterful thoughtfrom the confidences he so often unconsciously invited from thislifelong friend, his faith in the sincerity and spiritual depth of thisbrother friar who, out of love for him, listened to much that painedhim, taught him to value at its highest this opportunity of the closestscrutiny of his own motives, as he noted the impression of their talk ona nature as sincere and spiritual as it was transparent. 

But that night, when they had passed from the cloister into Fra Paolo'sstudy-cell, continuing as they walked the train of thought they had beendiscussing, his listener soon became so distrait that Fra Paolo, who wassingularly conscious of unspoken moods, dropped the problem he wasunfolding and laid his hand upon his shoulder with the rare tendernessexpressed only where he hoped that he might serve. 

"We were speaking of weighty matter and thy thoughts are not with me. Tell me thy trouble. "

"It is a question of responsibility--the burden of the confessional, "Fra Francesco answered simply. 

Fra Paolo drew back his hand, and his tone was a shade less tender. 

"Of all that hath been reposed in thee under that sacred seal thou mustbear the burden alone. "

"My brother, dost thou think I can forget my vow?" Fra Francescoexclaimed, reproachfully. "I spake not of that which hath been reposedin me, but of my duty growing out of that sacred office. It was for thisI wanted counsel, and I had sought thee before to pray thee to confessme; but I know thy views and I ask thee not. "

"Yet as brothers of one holy order thou mayest confide in me, ifperchance it may bring thee comfort. For us of the Servi it is our dutyof service. "

Fra Francesco sat for a moment in silence. "Life is heavy, " he saidslowly, "and hard to interpret. Yet I seem to feel that thou wiltunderstand, though it be in the very matter of our difference. There isone--highly placed and noble in spirit, and to the Church a most devoteddaughter--who cometh to me for teaching in this matter of the interdict. She asketh of me all its meaning--what it shall bring to Venice?"

"Thou tell her, then, it shall bring naught. For if it be pronounced itwill be unjustly, and without due cause. "

"Nay, Paolo, my brother; it is written in the nineteenth maxim of the'Dictatus Papae' 'That none may judge the Pope. '"

"My brother, who gave thee thy conscience and thine intellect?" FraPaolo questioned sternly. "And hath He who gave them thee so taught theeto yield them that it should be as if thou had'st not these gifts which, verily, distinguish man from the animals--to whom instinct sufficeth?Yet, if thou would'st have answer from one of our own casuists in whomthou dost place thy trust, the Cardinal Bellarmino, in his second bookon the Roman Pontiffs, will teach thee that without prejudice to thismaxim of Gregory thou mayest refuse obedience to a command extendingbeyond the jurisdiction of him who commands; as Gaetano in his firsttreatise on the 'Power of the Pope, ' will also tell thee. For the peaceof thine own mind, my brother, I would I might make thee understand!"

"Nay, " answered Fra Francesco, not less earnestly. "Peace for him whohath faith cometh not with one intellectual solution, nor another; butwith calm purpose to do the right, however it may be revealed. "

"Which, as thou knowest, Francesco, Venice seeketh--and naught else. Itis a matter of law in which thou hast made no studies, and thereforehard for thee. Now must I to the Council Chamber, but later I wouldwillingly show thee all the argument. But of this be sure. The Republicwill not offend against the liberty of the Holy Church; but she willprotect her own. "

"Fearest thou not, dear friend, " Fra Francesco questioned, greatlytroubled, "that thou mayest lead Venice o'erlightly to esteem this vowof obedience which every loyal son of the Church oweth to the HolyFather? My heart is sore for thee. I see not the matter as thou would'sthave me. "

"Nay, " said Fra Paolo quietly, "to each one his burden! If thyconscience bears not out my teaching, thou art free from it. I interpretthe law by the grace which God hath given me; I, also, being free fromsin therein, if my understanding be not equal to the tasks wherein Iseem to feel God's guidance. "

"Yet tell me, I pray thee, Paolo mio, and be not displeased by mineinsistence, --perchance it may help me to comprehend this mystery, --howknowest thou the limit beyond which one may without sin, judge that theHoly Father shall not command obedience of the sons of the Church?"

"I do not say, when it conflicts with that which is in itself againstthe law of God, " Fra Paolo answered him, "this limitation thou alsowould'st admit; yet it may well-nigh seem to thee a blasphemy to supposeso strange a case, though many of the early fathers do provide againstit. But, to take another case, when a command of the Sovereign Pontiffdoth conflict with the rule of the Prince in his realm, see'st thou notwhat confusion should come if the Pope may revoke the laws of princesand replace them by his own in the temporal affairs of their dominions?And if it belong to his Holiness to judge which laws shall be revokedand what may be legislated to replace the old laws, ultimately but onepower should everywhere reign--and that an ecclesiastical power. Thematter is simple. "

Fra Paolo's searching gaze noted the flush of feeling in the face of hisfriend, which was his only response. 

"And thus will the Senate vote when the question shall come beforethem?" Fra Francesco had asked, after a pause; for this conversation hadtaken place in the earlier days of the struggle, while in many quartersopinions were forming. 

"There can be no accurate recital of the manner of a happening before ithath taken place, " the Teologo Consultore replied so placidly that histone conveyed as little reproach as information; yet Fra Francesco couldnot again have put his question in any form. 

Still he lingered, as if something more must be spoken, although FraPaolo had already sent to summon his secretary. "I also, " he said, asserting himself, with an effort which was always painful to his gentlesoul, "I also would be faithful to my conscience and my vow; that whichI believe--I can teach no other. "

"More can one not ask of thee, " Fra Paolo answered, suddenly unbendingfrom the stilted mood of his last words. "By the light that is given himmust each man choose his path. "

"If, " said Fra Francesco, speaking sorrowfully, "the blessed law ofsilence were added to our vow, how would it save a man perplexity andtrouble! For that which one believeth must color his speech, though hewould fain speak little. Thy light is larger than mine own--I know it tobe so--and yet to me it bringeth no vision. I would it had been given usto see and teach alike!"

"In this matter of the confessional, " said Fra Paolo, returning andspeaking low, "if but thou didst believe with me that, _as a sacrament_, it is oftenest unwise and best left unpractised, thy difficulties mightbe fewer. "

"Nay, Paolo mio, tempt me not. I would I might believe it, but myconscience agreeth to my vow. "

"As thou believest, so do; 'for whatsoever is not of faith is sin, '"said Fra Paolo solemnly. "That was a strong word spoken of doctrine toguard the conscience. I would I might scatter all the noble words ofthat noble Apostle Paul among the people and the priests, in our owntongue!"

"Sometimes thou seemest so like a rebel I know not why I come to thee introuble"--Fra Francesco looked at him with grieving eyes--"except thatin thine heart thou art indeed true. "

"So help me God--it is my prayer!" Fra Paolo answered. "And for thee andme alike, however we may differ, there is this other helpful word inthat same blessed book which they will not let the starving peopleshare--'God is faithful who will not suffer you to be tempted above thatye are able, but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it. ' May God be with thee!"

"And Christ and the Holy Mother have thee in their keeping!" FraFrancesco answered, with a yearning look in his loving face, in a tonethat lingered on the sweet word "mother" and almost seemed to hint of anomission, as they clasped hands and parted. 

This was the last time they had had speech together; but on the eveningof the day when Venice had declared her loyalty to her Prince byunanimous vote, there was much animated talk of the matter in therefectory. Fra Francesco had joined the group and listened silently. Butas the call to _compline_ rang through the cloisters and the friarsscattered, he had turned his face to Fra Paolo, who read thereon a verypassion of love, reproach, and pain which he could not forget. "When theduties of the Council press me less, " he thought, "I will seek him outand reason with him. "

But after that night the gentle friar was seen no more in Venice, andinquiry failed to develop a reason for his flight. They missed him inthe Servi, where already they were beginning to gather up the palehappenings of his convent life with the kindly recollection which tingedthem with a thread of romance, as his brothers of the order rehearsedthem in the cloistered ways where he would come no more; for to him someministry of beauty had always been assigned. The vines drooped for histending, they said; and the pet stork who wandered in the closelanguished for his hand to feed the dainty morsel, and for his voice inthat indulgent teasing which had provoked its proudest preening. 

But this, perhaps, was only fancy, or their way of recognizing a certaingrace they missed. But of the reason of his going, which most of themconnected in some way with this movement in Venice over which he hadoften grieved, there was no open recognition among them--partly becausethey feared that ubiquitous ear of the Senate, which penetrated unseenthrough many closed doorways, partly because they realized how strangeit was that their own sympathies had not confessed his view of right. 

Furtively, too, the friars watched Fra Paolo; for the adoration of thegentle Fra Francesco for this idol of their order, from the day whenthey had entered the convent as boys together, had formed a cloisteridyl--none the less that the response of the graver friar was notequally demonstrative, though it was felt to be true; for it was amarvel that two such opposite natures should hold so closely togetherand that Fra Francesco, for all his gentleness, should apparently retainopinions uninfluenced by the power and learning which all othersrecognized. 

Yet, from those early days, Fra Francesco had abated nothing of hisscrupulous and loving conservatism; never had he questioned a rule, norchosen the least, instead of the most, permitted in an act of humility;and after his Church, the Madonna, and his patron saint, he expended thedevotion of his nature upon his friend with a just estimate of his powerand daring which filled his soul with anxious happiness. Often, inthose earlier days, when the echoes of Fra Paolo's triumphs hadpenetrated to the refectory of the Servi, Fra Francesco had felt astrange premonition which had kept him long on his knees before thealtar in the chapel. "Shield him, O Holy Mother, from danger, " he hadprayed, "nor let him wander from the lowly path of obedience for prideof that which thou permittest him to know!" And his day-dream of earthlyhappiness was the spending of his friend's great gifts in the service ofthe Holy Church, wherein he should ascend from honor to honor, enlargingher borders and strengthening her rule, attaining at last to the supremeposition. 

Weeks after Fra Francesco had disappeared from the convent a letter wasbrought by the gastaldo of Nicolotti, Piero Salin, who, in spite ofopposition among the brothers, persisted in delivering it with his ownhand, though it was rare that any one outside his usual circle waspermitted to hold an interview with Fra Paolo; but Piero's masterfulways had not left him, and when he willed to do a thing the wills ofothers counted little. It was a pity--because the missive wasmysterious, crumpled with long carrying--and if a trusty member of theirown community had delivered it to Fra Paolo in his cell, there mighthave been some revelation!

But there was none. Fra Paolo was only a little more grave and silentthan of wont; but often now he was so absorbed in government mattersthat he took less part in the social life of the Servi. 

So Piero, laughing at the ease with which he had carried his point fornothing but the asking, --and it had to be done, since he had promisedMarina, --had his interview alone with Fra Paolo, and passed easilythrough the group of disappointed friars, under those exquisitelywrought arcades to his gondola, thanking them with nonchalance andpressing them to avail themselves more often of the eager service of hisbarcarioli, that the blessing of the Madonna might be upon theirtraghetti, to the discomfiture of their rivals the Castellani. For Pierowas a faithful gastaldo and lost no opportunity of seeking favor for thefaction he represented, and there was a certain grace in his proffer, since priests and friars paid no fares. 

Fra Paolo left alone read the message which held the tragedy of a life. 

"I could not stay in Venice, dear friend of my whole life, to see theeguide our country into such sad error; for so to my heart itseemeth--may God help us both!

"And when there was no longer hope that my little word might prevail tohold any in that way which alone seemeth to me right--and thou, with thygreat gifts, art using them for State and not for Church, Paolo mio, notfor our Holy Church--I could not stay, because I love thee! I must havebeen ever chiding thee had I remained, as if God had made me for no usebut to be a thorn in thy flesh--which I could not believe. 

"But because He hath made thee great, He hath given thee thy consciencefor thy guide, as mine to me; which holdeth me from grief over-much, forI know thee to be true and great. 

"Therefore for peace, and not for gladness, have I left thee; forreverence to the Holy Father, and for the better keeping of all my vows. 

"If perchance, at the feet of the Holy Father, my prayers and penancesmight, by miracle, avail to turn his wrath from Venice--it could nothurt thee!

"Yet because of this wish, which only holdeth life in me, --so sore is myheart at leaving Venice and thee and our dear home of the Servi, --well Iknow that never more mine eyes shall see these places of my love--andthee, my friend!

"If we learn by the way of pain, after this life God will forgive ourerrors!

"FRANCESCO, thy brother of the Servi. "

XXIII

As the cry of the populace rang down the Canal Grande, following theretreating ranks of the Jesuits, who, bound by their greater vows toRome, had remained steadfast and refused obedience to the Senate'smandate, the Lady Marina, roused by the excitement which they dreaded, had started to her feet with a marvelous return of her former mentalpower and a fullness of comprehension which sought for no explanations. She stood for a moment panting with hot, unspoken speech, turning fromone to another, and then, with a sudden, great effort, repressed thewords she would have spoken, asking quietly, after a pause in which noreference had been made to the expulsion of the confraternities:

"Which of the orders have gone? What more hath happened that I knownot?"

"Nay, the orders of the monks and of the friars have chiefly beenfaithful to Venice, " they told her, "and all is well. This society, which for long hath been cause of much disorder in our Republic, it iswell that it leave Venice in peace. "

She answered nothing, weighing their words silently. "Is it because theyare faithful to their vows, and to their Church?" she asked at length, in quiet irony. 

"Nay, but because they teach disobedience to princes and would thusundermine the law of the land, " Marcantonio hastened to explain, grateful that she could at length discuss the question. "Carina, --blessed be San Marco, --thou art like thyself! We will talktogether; we will make all clear to thee; thou shalt grieve no more, carinissima!"

She put up her hand and touched his cheek with an answering caress--thefirst through all these weary days. "I shall get well, Marco mio, " shesaid, with a sudden conviction that surprised them; but still there wasno smile in her eyes, and their hearts were sad, though the change thathad come over her was so extraordinary that they hoped much from theexplanation which the great Santorio had authorized. 

But for whom should they send in this moment, when life and death hungin the balance, to speak that authoritative word. 

The Bishop of Aquileia, first and greatest of the Venetian bishops, hadincurred the displeasure of the Senate for refusing to perform theduties of his office while the Republic remained under that fulminatedbut unacknowledged censure, and a new prelate, of opinions approved bythe Most Serene Republic, sat in the vacated see. The Bishop of Vicenzahad likewise signified his sympathy with the Holy See; and in Bresciatheir wandering prelate had scarcely yet received that strengtheningmonition of the watching Senate which was to recall him from hishiding-place and hold him steadfast in his cathedral service. 

And for the Patriarch Vendramin, who had been summoned to Rome toreceive the benediction of the Supreme Pontiff, but had been forbiddenby the Senate to leave the Venetian domains, this episode, which was afeature of the struggle known to the whole of Venice, placed him soopenly on the side of the Republic that it forbade his ministry with theLady Marina. 

But there was one so jealously guarded from all interruption and fatiguethat strangers who came from far to see him were refused audience, byorder of the Senate, or were received for a few moments only in someprotected chamber of the Ducal Palace; for the springs of governmentmoved at his touch, the matters which occupied him were weighty, and forthese they would spare his strength. Yet again the Senate signified arare consideration for the Ca' Giustiniani by permitting the attendanceof their Teologo Consultore in the palazzo of the Lady Marina; for whoso well could minister to her diseased mind as he who had unanswerablyplaced the question in its true light before all the Councils of theRepublic?

She stood with bowed head and clasped hands as he approached her, herhair falling unbound, as in her maiden days, over the simply white robewhich she had preferred in her illness, discarding all her jewels andall emblems of her state--pale as a vision, like a sad dream of thebeautiful Madonna del Sorriso which the Veronese had painted for thataltar of the Servi at which, each morning, Fra Paolo still dutifullyministered. 

"Peace be with thee and to thine house, my daughter, " said the PadreMaestro Paolo, spreading out his hands in priestly salutation as heentered the oratory of the palazzo Giustiniani, where the Lady Marinaawaited him. 

She had desired that the interview should take place in this chapel, which she had not visited since her illness. A faint odor of desolationstole through the dimness of the place to meet him--a breath from thewithered rose-petals which had dropped from the golden vases upon thesplendid embroidered altar-cloth and mingled with the dust of those manydays which had remained guiltless of Mass or service; the altar candleswere unlighted; the censer had lost its halo of mystic smoke. 

"It were fitter to my mood, most Reverend Father, wert thou to scatterpenitential ashes before a desecrated altar which may send no incense ofpraise to heaven. "

"Nay, my daughter; love and faith may still minister, and God, theUnchangeable, accept that service from every altar in Venice! 'Thesacrifice of God is a troubled spirit, ' it is written in the Holy Bookwhich God hath granted for the comfort of His people. May peace indeedbring thee its benediction--the more that thy need is great. "

Was there some strange power of resistance in that fragile, droopingfigure which made it difficult to rehearse the argument for Venice withhis accustomed mastery?

She listened silently while the learned Counsellor patiently explainedthat the sentence of Rome was unjust, therefore not incurred and not tobe observed by priests nor people; wherefore it was the duty of thePrince to prevent its execution--of the Prince who, more than anyprivate citizen, is bound to fear God, to be zealous in the faith andreverent toward the priests who are permitted to stand in the place ofChrist for the enforcement of his teaching only; but it is also the morethe duty of the Prince to eschew hypocrisy and superstition, to preservehis own dignity, and maintain his state in the exercise of the truereligion. 

But there was no acquiescence in her eyes. 

"I thank thee, most Reverend Father, for thy patient teaching, " shesaid; "but I lack the learning to make it helpful. Fra Francesco wasmore simple, and he hath taught me by no arguments; but he, for theexercise of the true religion, hath found it needful to quit Venice, anddoth make his pilgrimage to Rome, barefooted, that he may pray the HolyFather, of his grace, to lift this curse from our people. "

"There is that in her face which maketh argument useless, " Fra Paolosaid low to his friend Santorio, for he was himself no mean physician, having contributed discoveries of utmost importance to the medicalscience, "and there is a physical weakness combined with this mentalassertiveness which doth make it a danger to oppose her beliefs. Yet Iwould I might comfort her, for her soul is tortured. "

"It must be that thou shalt convince her!" Santorio pleaded with him. 

Thus urged, Fra Paolo spoke again, in a tone that pity renderedstrangely near to tenderness. "I would not weary thee, my daughter, having spoken the truth which I would fain have thee embrace for thineown healing. Only this would I remind thee--that none may be excludedfrom the Holy Catholic Church if he be not first excluded by his owndemerits from Divine Grace. "

She answered nothing, but there was an unspoken argument in her face. 

"See'st thou not that those terrors which thou dost fear shall not comeupon Venice, since she hath not sinned? It is this which, for thy peace, we would have thee comprehend. "

"My Father, there is but one whose teaching fitteth my reasoning, " sheanswered resolutely, "and he hath fled from Venice that he may be freeto believe and to practise his religion as our Holy Church doth require, and to plead against our doom, where prayer may be heard, unhindered bythe cloud which keepeth us in Venice from God's favor. He, being a holyman, hath taught me that the law of obedience to the Supreme Head of theChurch may not be transgressed--that our doom cometh not undeserved--andmy whole heart is sick with fear!"

"There is but One to whom is owed this supreme and inalterableobedience, my daughter; we do not differ in our beliefs; yield it alwaysto him, most reverently and unreservedly, " Fra Paolo answered solemnly. "But upon this earth, it hath been taught us by our Lord himself, 'thereis none good--nay, not one. ' The Head of the Church of God is Godhimself, the only infallible and just. Thinkest thou that He would haveus obey a command conceived in error, with intention to exclude fromevery benefit of our Holy Church, in the hour when they most need divinecomfort and protection, those who would faithfully do him service? Thusread we not the love and mercy of our Heavenly Father!"

"Most Reverend Father, " she cried, clasping her hands in extremity. "How shall a weak, untaught woman reason with the Counsellor of Venice!I know not where the words are written--but, somewhere, Fra Francescohath taught me, yet his soul is loving--there is a thought of thevengeance of God, and it is terrible! Day and night there is no othervision in my soul but this--of the _vengeance of God_, poured out uponthe disobedient. For this the blessed Mater Dolorosa of San Donatoweepeth ceaselessly. Love is for those who serve him; butvengeance--here and hereafter--for those who disobey. Oh, my Father! forevery human soul in Venice--the helpless women, who have no power butprayer, which is but insult while God's face is hidden--the littlechildren who have done no harm--Madre Beatissima, how can we bear it!"

"Nay, nay, my daughter, for our Father is righteous and merciful. 'Vengeance is mine, ' he saith; '_I_ will repay. ' He giveth no man chargeto bring his wrath upon us. He hath invested no human power with asupremacy beyond that which abideth in every loving and faithful soul, as to the things of the conscience. Thou, with thy love and faith andpain, art at this moment very near to Him; be comforted, and cease notto believe that He counteth all thy tears, and that thy prayers are dearto Him. "

"My Father, " she confessed sadly, "it is a part of the shadow that ithides my faith; night and day, with fast and penance, have I not ceasedto pray for Venice--and the answer hath been denied me. I could seek fordeath, but for the horror that cometh after, at the Madonna dell'Orto--the Tintoret--and that which the Michelangelo hath seen invision--Oh, my God!"

"My child, it is not God who faileth thee in answer to thy prayer; andlove and faith are yet strong and beautiful within thy soul; only ahuman weakness is upon thee which cloudeth thy human reason, and forthis thy soul is dark. For reason, also, is of God's gift--lower thanfaith and love, yet a very needful part of man while God leaveth him inhis human habitation. There hath come an answer to the prayer, thoughthou see'st it not. "

"Is it written, my father, in the cruel words of the interdict?" shegasped. 

"She is tortured out of reverence, " Santorio exclaimed apart, and wouldhave hushed her. 

But Fra Paolo, overhearing, said gently:

"For this I came, to hearken all thy trouble, if perchance I might givethee rest. The answer to thy prayer is not written in those unjustwords. For they--mark well, it is here that thy reason faileth thee--forthey were uttered by a human will, striving to coerce obedience in amatter beyond its province. The power which God hath given to priestsand princes is not arbitrary, but to be regulated by the law of God;neither is obedience toward those in authority to be stolid and blind, but yielded only when the command is within this divine law. The HolyFather hath no power to command disobedience to the Prince in hisrightful realm, --which thus he seeketh to do. "

She spread out her hands before her and half-turned away her head, as ifin deprecation of some sacrilege, growing very white. 

"Is _this_ the answer, my Father?"

"It is the reason for the answer which hath come by unanimous convictioninto the soul of every man of the ruling body of Venice, and hath beenvoiced by each, in his vote, with a fullness of consent which is ofGod's sending. Thus are they nerved to declare the censure void--andVenice is unharmed. "

"Madre Beatissima! _thus_ hast thou answered me?"

"My daughter, may it not comfort thee to know that that which thou, infaith and love, hast prayed for Venice--that in this struggle she shouldhold God's favor unharmed--hath come to her, though the manner of thebenefit accord not with the manner of the grace which thou hast asked?"

"If my reason is clouded with terror, " she said very slowly, as if herstrength were spent, "God hath vouchsafed me no other reason--but onlythat which trembles at this broken law of obedience. My Father--I praythee--I am very weary----"

XXIV

The nuncio had declared that Venice no longer required his services andhad withdrawn, with every ceremony of punctilious and honorabledismissal, to Rome, from whence the Venetian ambassador presently wentforth _without_ the customary compliments. 

But if diplomatic relations were severed between Rome and Venice, therewere still chances for private communication which sometimes cast acurious light upon the subject under discussion, but which made nochange in that irreproachable suavity of exterior or that invincibilityof purpose with which the Venetians held in check any attempt atdisaffection through Roman agency, or averted any schismatic movementwithin their own dependencies. 

To Sarpi, the Chief Counsellor, had been committed the censorship of thepress; and the supervision of those very papers which had been writtenby friends of the Republic to scatter broadcast in defense of itsrights, formed not the least delicate part of his task. For thegovernment demanded that they should maintain a fine reserve in method, and in spite of examples to the contrary freely given by theiropponents, would tolerate neither heresy nor coarseness. Every detail ofthis world-renowned quarrel was conducted on the part of Venice with anirreproachable dignity and diplomacy that raised it to the height of anegotiation of State, and it formed no part of the policy of theRepublic to tolerate any disbelief in her own loyalty; the Venetiansshould stand before the world as faithful sons of the Church, bearingunmerited sentence of excommunication. 

Then Rome, to make an end of the brilliant flow of pamphlets fromSarpi's pen, would have lured him from Venice with flattering promisesof churchly preferment. "Nay, " said he, "here lieth my duty; and my workhath not deserved honest favor from a Pope who interpreteth the law withother eyes than mine. "

Meanwhile the schemes of the enemy were tireless for obtaining secretinfluence within Venetian borders. Now it was a barefooted friar to bewatched for at Mantua, coming with powers plenipotentiary from hisHoliness over all the prelates of the rebellious realm; or it might bethis same friar, in lay disguise, still armed with those ghostly andsecret powers, for whom the trusted servants of Venice were to be onguard. Or there were disaffected brothers, who had left their conventsand were roaming through the land inciting to rebellion, to whom it wasneedful to teach the value of quiet, however summary the process. ButVenice, by a broad training in intrigue and cunning, joined to hermastery of the finer principles of statesmanship, still remainedmistress of the springs of action and wore her outward dignity, and thedisappointments were for her adversaries. But this training was a costlyone, for it put a prize on daring, confused the colors of right, andinvariably laureled success--if it did no more specific harm to theState. 

Piero Salin had been secretly summoned by the Ten and given anindefinite leave of absence from Venice, together with a largediscretionary power in the direction of his wanderings, with certainother passes and perquisites which bespoke a curious confidence in onewho had been known for a successful and much dreaded bandit gondolier. But if the government in its complicated labors had need of tools ofvarious tempers, it had also the wisdom to discern legitimate uses forcertain wild and lawless spirits when they were, like Piero, full ofdaring and resource. 

In the days when they had been dwellers under the same roof Piero hadnever been able to disregard Marina's will, often as he had chafed underthe necessity of yielding to it; and now, since she was Lady of theGiustiniani, it had not been otherwise in the rare instances when it hadpleased her to require anything of him. Yet it would have beenincongruous to charge Piero with over-sensitiveness on the side ofchivalry, though Marina's power over him was still as great as in thoseold days when, being unable to shake himself free from her influence, hehad wished to marry her to make it less. 

Piero was not introspective, but he doubtless knew that his rulingpassion was to achieve whatever purpose he might choose to set himself. The Nicolotti knew it well when, a few months before, they hadunanimously elected him to rule over them--as their chief officers hadrealized it when they had nominated him, without a dissenting voice, tothis position of gastaldo grande--a position of great honor fullyrecognized by the government. So the rival faction of the Castellanibore marvelous testimony to his mastery when they went over insurprising numbers from along the _Giudecca_, and underwent the strangeceremonial of baptism into the opposition party. 

Yet when the rival factions of the people had thus conspired to make himtheir chief it was Marina who had alone induced him to accept the honor. To all his objections her answer had been ready:

"Nay, Piero, it is meet for thee; they need one strong and brave, ofwhom they stand in dread, who knoweth their ways--"

"As much bad as good, " Piero had interposed frankly, and not withoutasseverations well known to gondoliers. 

"It is well said, " she had answered, with the comprehension born of herintimate knowledge of the class; "and to keep them in order--verily, none but thou canst do it. "

Piero gave an expressive shrug, having had enough of compliment. "_Enavanti--c'è altro_!" he said, laughing. "The taxes are heavy, and theirExcellencies the tax-gatherers have less patience than the poorgondoliers bring of _zecchini_ to the purse of the Nicolotti. But thegastaldo hath as little liberty of delay, as their Excellencies leavehim to decline the burden--I might better make shipwreck in the CanaleOrfano. "

It was in this canal that the victims of the Inquisition mysteriouslydisappeared, and Marina had repressed a shudder while she answered, "Thou wilt come to me, Piero, if the purse of the Nicolotti weighslittle; thou shalt not fail, for this, of wearing the honor of gastaldogrande. 

"Nay, " she had added, quickly disposing of his awkward attempts atthanks, "think not of it again; it is for my pleasure to see thee greatamong the people, for I also and my father are of them. It is this thatI have always wished for thee. "

So, chiefly because it had been Marina's will, Piero had waived hisunwillingness and become the central figure in the imposing ceremony ofthe election of the gastaldo grande of the Nicolotti, who were, indeed, almost nobles by antiquity and prestige, not only claiming amongthemselves the coveted title of _nobili_, but, under the sanction of thegovernment, electing their gastaldo with a degree of ceremonial grantedonly to high officials, and prescribed in very ancient books of the lawsof the traghetti. One of the ducal secretaries, having received officialnotice of the vacancy of the office carried in person before the Senateby the oldest man of the Nicolotti, came, in purple state, to presideover the election when the bell of San Nicolò had tolled forth thecall--taking his seat among the twelve electoral presidents who, alreadychosen by the people, awaited him, having sworn the inevitable oath ofimpartiality and fealty to the Republic; they sat behind locked doorsuntil the election was brought to a close--in that solemn semblance of aducal election which could not fail to impress the people--withcomplicated, time-using ballotings, and comings and goings of candidatesfrom adjoining chambers to express their views of the responsibilitiesof the office, or to defend themselves against the freely invitedattacks of opponents or malcontents. 

And for once Piero had uttered opinions, however clumsily, upon"government" and "reform" from the pulpit of San Nicolò, in thedignified and interested presence of a ducal secretary, the bancali, andthe disconcerting throng of gondoliers who were intolerant of speechesand impatient for their vote; and he had retired shamefacedly, like anawkward boy, while his jejune remarks were elaborately discussed by thejudges. And because his views--if he had any--had not beenover-luminously set forth in this his maiden oration, a party of zealousadvocates had nearly caused an uproar by their irrepressible shout of"Non c'e da parlar', ma da fare!" which was, in truth, too sure anindication of the temper of the people to be ignored. "We do not wanttalking--but doing!"

And for once he had experienced a curious sensation which cowardly mencall "fear, " but for which Piero had neither name nor tolerance, whenall the people who had been worrying him led him in triumph to the altarand forced him down on his stubborn knees to take a solemn oath ofallegiance, his great bronzed hand, all unaccustomed to restraint, resting meanwhile in the slippery silken clasp of the ducal secretary. 

Here also had the gastaldo received, from those same patrician hands, the unfurled banner of the Nicolotti, with the sacramental words:

"We consign to you the standard of San Nicolò, in the name of the MostSerene Prince and as proof that you are the chief gastaldo and head ofthe people of San Nicolò and San Raffaele. "

And after that had come freedom of breath, with the Te Deum, withoutwhich no ceremonial was ever complete in Venice, chanted by all thosefull-throated gondoliers--a jubilant chorus of men's voices, ringing themore heartily through the church for those unwonted hours of repression. 

But when the doors had at last been thrown wide to the sunshine and thebabel of life which rose from the eager, thronging populace who had noright of entrance on this solemn occasion--men who had no vote, womenand children who had all their lives been Nicolotti of the Nicolotti--aVenetian must indeed have been stolid to feel no thrill of pride as theprocession, with great pomp, passed out of the church to a chorus ofbells and cannon and shouts of the people, proclaiming him their chosenchief. 

Piero Salin was a splendid specimen of the people--tall, broad-shouldered, gifted by nature and trained by wind and wave to thevery perfection of his craft; positive, nonchalant, and masterful;affable when not thwarted; of fewer words than most Venetians; an adeptat all the intricacies of gondolier intrigue, and fitted by intimateknowledge to circumvent the _tosi_. Moreover, he was in favor with thegovernment, a crowning grace to other qualities not valueless in one ofthis commanding position. 

No wonder that the enthusiasm of the populace was wild enough to bringthe frankest delight to his handsome sun-bronzed face as they rushedupon him in a frenzy of appreciation and bore him aloft on theirshoulders around the Piazza San Nicolò, almost dizzied with their hasteand the smallness of the circle opened to them in the little square bythe throng who pressed eagerly around him to grasp his hand--to wavetheir banners, to shout themselves hoarse for the Nicolotti, for SanNicolò and San Raffaele, for _Piero, gastaldo grande_, for Venezia, forSan Marco, with "Bravi, " "Felicitazioni, " and every possible childishdemonstration of delight. 

Should not the Nicolotti--blessed be the Madonna!--always overcome theCastellani with Piero at their head, in those party battles on thebridges which had now grown to be as serious a factor in the lives ofthe gondoliers of Venice as they were disturbing to the citizens atlarge, and therefore the more to the glory of the combatants?

Was he not their own representative--elected by the very voice of thepeople, as in those lost days of their freedom the doges had been? Anddid not the rival faction so stand in awe of the new gastaldo that fromthe moment of his nomination there had been disaffection in their ranks?

And now, as they shouted around him, many a sturdy red cap tossed hisbadge disdainfully into the throng and snatched a black bonnet from thenearest head to wave it aloft with cries of "the black cap! TheNicolotti! Viva San Nicolò!"

And again, when Piero essayed to prove himself equal to his honors, hisfew words dropped without sound upon the storm of vivas--"We do not wanttalking for our gastaldo--but doing!"

Since this happening Piero had been indeed a great man among thepeople--a popular idol, with a degree of power difficult to estimate byone unfamiliar with the customs and traditions of Venice; holding thekey, practically, to all the traghetti of Venice, since even before thissweeping disaffection of the Castellani the Nicolotti were invariablyacknowledged to be the more powerful faction, so that now it was atrifling matter to coerce a rival offending traghetto; and gondoliers, private and public, were, to say the least, courteous toward thesenobles of the Nicolotti, who were dealing with tosi as never before inthe history of Venice. 

In truth, but for those unknown _observors_ in secret service to theterrible Inquisition, --an army sixty thousand strong, one third of theentire population of Venice, --impressed from nobles, gondoliers, ecclesiastics, and people of every grade and profession, from everyquarter of the city, and charged to lose nothing of any detail thatmight aid the dreaded chiefs of the Inquisition in their silent andfearful work--the power of Piero would have been virtually limitless. These three terrible unknown chiefs of the Inquisition were never namedamong the people except with bated breath, as "i tre di sopra, " _thethree above_, lest some echo should condemn the speakers. But theunsought favor of the government was as much a check as an assistance toPiero's schemes, bringing him so frequently into requisition forofficial intrigues that he had less opportunity for counterplotting, while his knowledge of State secrets which he might not compromise, ofthe far-reaching vision of Inquisitorial eyes, and of the swift andrelentless execution of those unknown _osservatori_ who had beenunfaithful to their primal duty as spies, made him dare less whereothers were concerned than he would have foretold before he had beenadmitted to these unexpected official confidences; while for himself hehad absolutely no fears--having but one life to order or to lose, andcaring less for its length than for the freedom of its ruling while itremained to him. 

And still Marina was, as she had always been, the gentlest influence inhis reckless life, --to some slight extent an inspiring one, --steadyinghis daring yet generous instincts into a course that was occasionallynearer to nobility than he could ever have chanced upon without her, yetnever able to instil a higher motive power than came from pleasing her. 

It was Piero who had escorted Fra Francesco to the borders of the Romandominions, guarding him from pitfalls and discovery until he was free toundertake his barefooted penitential pilgrimage upon Roman soil; andfrom no faith nor sympathy in the gentle friar's views, but only becausehe was dear to Marina. 

And through Piero's agents, established under threats as terrible asthose of the Ten themselves, had come the news which, from time to time, he unfolded to her; while the same secret agent brought perhaps a rumorwhich the gastaldo grande confided to the Ten, wherewith some conventplotting was unmasked, or other news so greatly to the keeping of thepeace of the Serene Republic, that Piero might have bought therewithpropitiation for all those sins against it, of which the government washappily in ignorance. Now it was a hint of a plot in embryo to seizethe arsenal, involving some members of distinction in the households ofresident ambassadors; or word of the whereabouts of that wandering, barefooted emissary with plenary powers, who had hitherto eludedVenetian vigilance. 

It was Piero also--although he never confessed to it--who, out ofcompassion for Marina's priestly proclivities when she lay criticallyill, had made it possible for the Jesuits to remove those coffers oftreasure which, in spite of strictest orders to the contrary, accompanied them on their flight from Venice; it was not that he tookpart against Venice in the quarrel, but that the penalty of exile seemedto him sufficient, especially as Marina had a weakness for priests; andhe could be generous in his use of power, though a man less daring wouldnot have risked the freak. But there was a masterful pleasure inoutwitting the Signoria and the Ten, lessened only by the consciousnessthat he must keep this triumph to himself, and Piero also knew how tohold his tongue--for discretion was a needful grace in that strange timeof barbaric lawlessness shrouded in a more than Eastern splendor. 

But even Piero sometimes quickened his step as he passed the beautifulsea façade of the Ducal Palace, whose rose-tinted walls seemed made onlyto reflect sunshine; for perchance he guessed the name of that victimwho hung with covered face between the columns, bearing in bold letterson his breast, by way of warning, the nature of the crime for which hepaid such awful penalty--some crime against the State. "To-day, " saidPiero to himself, "it is this poor devil who cried to me to shield himwhen I was forced to denounce him to the Signoria; to-morrow, for somecaprice of their Excellencies--it may be Piero Salin!"

But the gastaldo relapsed easily into such philosophy as he knew. "Bythe blessed San Marco and San Teodoro themselves!" he was ready to cry, as he reached his gondola, "there must always be a last 'to-morrow'!"

XXV

Life had begun to move again, with slow, clogged wheels, in the Ca'Giustiniani since that sudden favorable change had come to the LadyMarina. Her husband was no longer excused from attendance in the CouncilHalls of the Republic, and whether to quicken his interest in theaffairs of the government or because, in due course, the time had comewhen a young noble so full of promise should take a prominent place inher councils, he was now constantly called upon to fill importantoffices in transient committees. Certainly there was some strange, ubiquitous power in that watchful governmental eye; and in the Broglioit had been whispered that if the young Senator were not held constantby multiplied honors and responsibilities the home influence might befateful to the house of Giustiniani--a house too princely and tooimportant to Venice to be suffered to tolerate any sympathy with Rome. Giustinian the elder, being pronounced in his patriotic partizanship, had replaced the ambassador to his Most Catholic Majesty of Spain, whoseattempts at conciliation were so ludicrously inadequate that a court ofless astute diplomacy than Venice might have been tempted to withdrawits embassy. Spain and Venice had been stepping through a stately dance, as it were, decorous and princely, --though scarcely misleading, --aninterminable round of bows and dignified advances leading no whither, since for a forward step there was a corresponding backward motion tocomplete the _chassé_, and all in that gracious circle which flattersthe actor and the onlooker with a pleasurable sense of progress; but thesuspense as to the issue of this minuet was all on the side of Spain, and Venice had patience to spare for these pretty time-filling paceswhich presented such semblance of careless ease to the watchingembassies. England, with an understanding quickened by her ownexperience, took a serious interest in the quarrel. But his MostChristian Majesty of France was foremost among the princes in efforts tohasten the conciliation of the disputants, and when Henry of Franceoffered to mediate between the powers, Venice said him not nay. For ifshe would take no personal step toward conciliation, she yet held nocode by which the intercession of a monarch might seem to lessen herdignity; and the coming of so princely an envoy as the Cardinal diGioiosa was celebrated with fêtes meet to grace the reception of so higha dignitary of the Church of Rome. 

Hence Venice, under the ban, suggested rather a lively tourney in somefield of cloth of gold, than an excommunicated nation in its time ofmourning; there were frequent interchanges of diplomaticcourtesies--receptions to special embassies which had lost nothing oftheir punctilious splendor. There had always been time in Venice forabsolute decorum, and now there was not less than usual, since herconduct had been denounced--though Venice and her prestige wereuntarnished and the world was looking on!

Marcantonio, in spite of his deep home anxiety, was becoming more andmore absorbed in the affairs of a government which made such claims uponhim, and for the honor of his house, by all Venetian tradition, he mustgive to the full that which was exacted of him. But he worked withoutthe brilliancy and enthusiasm of a few months past--as a man steadied bysome great sorrow, striving more strenuously to give of his best wherehonor is concerned, because he is conscious that the heaviness of hisheart makes all duty irksome. 

For Marina, with returning health, --the physicians spoke of her thussince they had pronounced her out of danger, --had not fully returned tohim; it was less her whiteness and wanness that oppressed him than thatnameless change in the face and eyes which suggested a ceaseless, passionate suppression of the deep, impassioned self, under the listlessexterior; there was an immeasurable loss in the sweetness of life tothem both, though never since the early days of their love had he beenso tender and patient, so eager to gladden her in little ways. But sheanswered his love more often with a mute caress of her hand upon hischeek than with smiles or words--yet with a touch that lingered, as ifto assure him that her love was not less, though she herself waschanged. 

Something terribly real lay between them, of which it seemed better notto speak, since all his efforts to change her point of view had failed. It was utterly sad to have her so nearly herself again, and yet so farfrom him. Life was hard for this young senator with his multipliedhonors, his wealth, and prestige. Marina had always given impetus to hislife; now it was he who watched and cared for her, while she seemed tohave no will for anything, yet had lost that old charming ingenuousnesswhich had underlain her power. He had promised himself, out of his newpathetic yearning when she had begun to improve, that never again shouldshe know an ungratified wish, yet now he feared that she would give himno opportunity of granting a request, so apathetic had she grown. Butone day, when he was trying to rouse her to express a desire, she laidher hand eagerly on his, asking a thing so strange that unconsciously hestarted away from her. 

"Marco, mio, take me to Rome!"

For a moment, in spite of all that had gone before, the young Senatorwas betrayed into a forgetfulness of his tender mood--it was so strange, this request of a Lady of the Giustiniani, to choose Rome rather thanVenice at a time of contest; but her face and manner and speech wereluminous with hope; she was radiant again, as she had not been for manymonths; yet the words escaped from him unintentionally and sternly:

"_To Rome_!"

"Yes, Marco, thou and I and the little one! We should be so happy againin the palazzo Donatello, where baby came to us. "

"Marina, a Giustinian abides by Venice. From the days when every man ofthe Ca' Giustiniani--save only the priest, who might not take uparms--laid down his life before Lepanto, none hath ever forsakenVenice. "

"It is not to forsake our Venice, Marco mio!" she cried, with growingeagerness, "but to serve her--to plead with the Holy Father that he willremove the curse and let all the prayers of Venice ascend again to theMadre Beatissima, who listens no more! It is a service for a Giustinianto render!"

Her whole soul pleaded in face and gesture, beautiful and compelling; hefelt her old power reasserting itself; he almost groaned aloud as he putup his hand to shut out this beseeching vision of the wife whom he lovedbefore all things but honor--lest he, being among the trusted rulers ofhis country, should fail to Venice out of the great joy of granting toMarina the happiness she craved. 

Not for an instant did the young Venetian noble question his duty, whilewith head averted, lest Marina should guess his struggle, he invokedthat ever-present image of Venetia regnant, which all her childrenrecognize, to stay him from forgetting it until this temptation werepast and he could be strong again; but now he knew that he was weak froman irrepressible yearning to clasp Marina in his arms and grant herheart's desire--at whatever cost; he dared not touch her lest he shouldyield. 

The moment's silence intensified her eagerness and hope; he felt themburning in her eyes, and would not meet their prayer again. But shecould not wait, and her hand, fluttering restlessly upon his shoulder, crept up to touch his cheek, thrilling him unbearably, as if eachsensitive finger-tip repeated her urgency. He must yield if she kept itthere. He snatched her hand to his lips and dropped it quickly, nervinghimself to speak steadily, lest he should betray irresolution--socovering the tenderness which would have atoned for the positiverefusal. 

"Marina, a Venetian may not demean himself to ask forgiveness of theHoly Father in a matter wherein Venice hath not sinned--but Rome. "

"Marco, my beloved, if Venice were mistaken! If thou and I might saveher!"

Her voice broke in a sob of agony, and her husband gathered her in hisarms, struggling not to weep with her. "Carina--carinissima!" herepeated soothingly; yet, as she grew calmer, brought despair again. 

"Nay, Marina, no loyal senator may question the decision of hisgovernment; thou presumest too far; but thine illness and thy sufferinghave made thee irresponsible. "

Then, grieving so to cross her in her weakness and pain, with all histenderness in his voice, he hastened to atone for the firmness of thedeclaration which had sufficiently proved his staunchness. 

"Marina, thou and I--were we not Giustiniani--more than all otherVenetians owe our loyalty in time of stress; and for love of thee, beloved, shall Venice find me faithful in her need--I and all myhousehold true, and all my fortune hers in service, if need shouldbe--as thus I vowed, before them all, on that day when the Senate gavethee to me and made thee the sweetest patrician lady in all the land. Wewill not fail them, beloved!"

He clasped her close, holding her firmly, as if to infuse her with hisfaith. "All blessings are for those who do the right, Marina; we neednot fear. "

Never had she seen his face so inspired, so masterful, so tender; it wasa revelation. The whole of their beautiful love story was written on it, mastering all the traditions of Venice, yet binding him more closely tothe service of his country. 

For a moment she looked at him awestruck, longing to give the submissionwhich would bring her rest; it was not strange that she loved him so;oh, if she might but acquiesce in his view of right! Madre Beatissima, life was hard, and the way of right was the way of the cross--how manyholy women had found it so! One hand stole to the little crucifixbeneath her robe and pressed its roughened surfaces into her breast, forshe must not place the sweetness of this earthly love before the duty ofthe heavenly one. "Santa Maria, save me!" she prayed, while, only forone moment, she drooped her head to his shoulder and nestled close, thathe should know her heart was his, whatever came--_whatever came_. 

Was it strange that her agony threatened her reason? In that one littlemoment of comfort, which she yearned to hold free from suffering thatits remembrance might uphold her, the powerful vision of theTintoretto's awful _Judgment_ rose beckoningly before her. It was thedoom of Venice, and she alone--so impotent--recognized the danger. 

The vision pursued her night and day. The River of the Wrath of God, leaping up to meet those frowning skies of His most just anger, andVenice--superb, disdainful--overwhelmed between; the cloud ofinnumerable souls, tortured and writhing, fleeing from before the faceof the Holy One, no more than a mere film of whirling atoms, falling--falling into an abyss of horrors--the dim, doomed shapeswearing faces that had smiled into hers--With an inarticulate moan shehid her face on her husband's shoulder. 

"Marco, " she whispered with an effort, for her strength was spent, "notthough it were a vision, revealed by the Madonna San Donato, thouwouldest take me to Rome? Not though I could make thee comprehend whatit means for me--and thee?"

She waited breathlessly for his answer, with pulses that seemed to pausefor the momentous decision, not daring to look at him lest she shouldfalter and retract; for never again would she ask this question, which, even now, she had put in the form of an assertion. 

"Nay, Marina, the Madonna asketh naught of thee but that which graciouswomen must give--submission to their princes--in which, beloved, thouseemest to fail; and duty to thy Church, in which thou, having ever beenbefore all others, art now neglectful. For from the altar of your homeno Masses ascend, no fragrance of flowers nor praise. Venice is morefaithful in that which she commands, and we, carina, may not longerdisregard her will without suspicion of disloyalty. Since Fra Francescois no longer here, I will apply for some new ministrant. Hast thou awish in this choice of a priest for the service of our oratory?"

She had started away from him almost resentfully, that he could chargeher--whose fealty to her Church was killing her--with neglect of anyduty it imposed; but, out of her larger love, she understood him betterthan he knew her, and she forgave him and nestled back again. He had notbeen brought up to place the requirements of the Church before thecommands of Venice, --few patricians were in those days, --she could notmake him realize the awful restrictions of that ban which, by her strictteaching, made it impossible for the faithful to worship in Venice whileit remained unwithdrawn; yet he could count it as non-existent!

She was glad that she had felt the tumult of his heart while he answeredher so calmly; it made her realize what it cost him to deny her prayer;it assured her that a staunch sense of duty underlay his strength;pitilessly it assured her also that he would not change, and the veryfirmness which came between them made her love and admire him the more. In the midst of her pain she was proud that he also had conscience onhis side, however misguided it seemed to her. Why did the good Madonnapermit these differences? How was it possible for Marco, with his quick, intellectual grasp, not to comprehend the truth--not to see the terrorsthat Venice had brought upon herself! He was suffering also, but onlybecause she suffered; never would he understand her agony; the rudest, crudest weight of the cross she must lift alone, weary and spent withthe bitter struggle. 

She summoned all her strength to answer him as though the words wereeasily spoken. "Since it is not Fra Francesco, whom we love, " she said, "I know no other; choose thou, my Marco. "

His face flushed with pleasure that her resistance seemed conquered. "And when we have found our confessor, shall we go together--thou andthe little one and I, " he asked brightly, "to the Island of Sant' Elenà, which thou lovest, and we ourselves bring flowers to deck our chapel?For it hath been long since Mass was said therein. "

"Yes, Marco mio, " she answered to the love in his voice, struggling torepress every accent of dissent; for in her heart she told herself thatthe chapel of the palazzo Giustiniani was his, not hers, since theirfaith was divided; "and for me only, not for him, to worship there issin. And the beautiful day together, alone on the island with theflowers--it is the gift of the Holy Mother to help me endure!"

And her husband, as he left her, carried with him a smile that satisfiedhim. 

But, turning in the doorway for another glance--so sweet it was to haveher all his own again--a pang shot through him, for the glory was gonefrom her face--or was it the shadow that made it so wan and gray?--andno smile hid the questioning anguish of her eyes. Nay, he himself wasfanciful, for it was too far to see, and he could not shake off thesadness of the days that were past. But he must teach himself to forgetthem. For Marina had smiled at him, radiantly, as in the sweet, olddays; and together they would deck the chapel for a benediction!

XXVI

Fra Paolo was fast becoming a centre of romance, so many were theattempts from suspicious quarters to manage private interviews which theSenate had thought necessary to frustrate; and the fact that he wasknown to have declined the escort of guards which the Senate urged uponhim as means of safety endowed him with a sort of heroic halo in theeyes of the lesser multitude. "Fate largo a Fra Paolo, " they called inthe Merceria if the people pressed him too closely--"Make way for FraPaolo!"--and a strange youthfulness, as of satisfied affections, wasbeginning to grow upon his calm face. He had had no cravings, feelingthat duty sufficed; yet, through this absolute yielding of himself toexpress the message with which his life was charged, his heart hadwarmed within him, and now, unsought, the people loved him, magnifyingthe interest of every minor happening of his life and zealouslygathering anecdotes of the days before he was great. 

A group of his brother friars were strolling back and forth under thefretted colonnades of the greater court of the Servi one evening beforevespers, a glow of relish on their genial, cowled faces, rehearsing thetale of Fra Paolo's unconventional slippers; for it was the hour ofsmall gossip, and the day had been warm. 

"They were scarlet, like an eminence's, " explained Fra Giulio, who hadsecured this choice bit for the entertainment of his special cronies;"for all colors are one to Fra Paolo, who hath no distinction fortrifles. "

"Because he spendeth himself in scheming for honors that belongelsewhere, " interposed a disaffected brother who had strolled up andjoined the group uninvited; he belonged to another chapter of the Servi, and had but recently come among them; honors had passed him by andduties attracted him less, and he had made no friends within theconvent, though he professed great interest in all that concerned FraPaolo, and had even offered to wait upon him in chapel or in his cell. 

"Thou, Fra Antonio, seek thine own friends!" Fra Giulio retorted, withunusual asperity; "for this tale is too good for thine hearing, beinganother triumph for Fra Paolo in the days when he was only a frate ofthe Servi. "

"_Ebbene_, and then?" urged the eager auditors, crowding around thespeaker, for the incongruity of the grave padre, in his frayed and rustygown attempting to usurp a decoration, lent interest to the pettyhappening. 

"_Ebbene_, and then his Eminence of Borromeo--for it seemeth that onlythe illustrious play parts in this farce"--Fra Giulio continued withkeen enjoyment, "his Eminence of Borromeo hath explained at Rome thatFra Paolo was innocent of contempt of rule. "

"Verily, the fault might have been counted to one who hath no sins ofthe body to atone for!" sneered Fra Antonio, who could not be convertedto the prevailing tone of admiration for this abnormal being who walkedamong them not as other men, and toward whom his own attitude was asingular compound of obsequiousness and cynicism. "Even the slippers ofyour saint can do no wrong, " he added venomously. 

"But thou, in canonized shoes, couldst walk but wearily, Fra Antonio, lest they should lead thee in unwonted ways!" one of the party retortedmaliciously. 

"Fra Paolo hath fear of no man, and that which he declareth he knoweth, "said another of the frati, lowering his voice and glancing about himfurtively. "And it hath chanced to him, more than once, to be wiser thanthe Serenissimo and the Ten themselves--may San Marco have other usesfor his ears! But the day that our famous Signor Bragadin was summonedfrom his palace on the Giudecca to make his promised gold for theSignoria, I stood with the crowd in the Merceria to see him pass, withhis two black dogs and their golden collars looking for all the worldlike powers of evil! And our gold-maker himself going to the Senate likea noble, with his friends the Cornaro and the Dandolo in crimsonrobes--the people thronging to see him pass!"

"Ay, Bragadin was a saintly man!" one of them retorted mockingly. "Dostremember the tale how that he fooled the worshipful Signoria to leavehim a week in peace, that he might take the blessed sacrament quietly, finding therein 'a holy joy' that should fit him to proceed to theservice of Venice--looking, meanwhile, for means of escape?"

"_Davvero_! but this was the hour of his highest favor, and I followedwith the rest of the crowd till there was scarce breathing space underthe clock tower, where the _Magi_ were just coming forth to salute theMadonna and the Bambino at the stroke of the day; and the people wereshouting so one could not hear the bell for cries of 'Gold! gold!Bragadin!'

"We surged back against the doorway of the 'Nave d'Oro, ' the peoplestruggling with each other lest they should lose the sight as he passedthrough the Piazza, and suddenly there came a voice, --cold, andscornful, and low, but no man lost the words, --'Thou art wearied in themultitude of thy counsels. Let now the astrologers, the star-gazers, themonthly prognosticators stand up and save thee from these things thatshall come upon thee!' The people stopped their pushing and lookedaghast to see who spake, but I could have sworn it was Fra Paolo'svoice. I caught a glimpse of him standing quietly just inside the 'Naved'Oro, ' while the other signori who go there to ridotto were out in theMerceria to see the show; and I made haste away lest the crowd shouldobject to my habit for being like Fra Paolo's--they were so crazy forBragadin, following in the footsteps of the Signoria, like goodVenetians!"

"Who told the saying to the Signoria, when it might have crushed FraPaolo?" Fra Giulio questioned jealously. 

"It may well have been his Excellency the Signor Donato, who was of theCouncil in those days, but a man too strong to have a mind to the follyof the others, and who walked about the chamber giving sign of muchdispleasure while Bragadin made his gold. And the next day Fra Paolo iscommanded before the Signoria to meet the Provveditor of the Mint--beingthe only man who hath dared speak his mind before the Signoria hadproved the worthlessness of Bragadin's promise. And our fine gold-makerexchangeth his palace for a prison; for the test of the crucible is alltoo easy for Fra Paolo, who speaketh naught that he knoweth not. "

"Santa Maria! here cometh the 'bride, '" some one exclaimed warningly;for none of Fra Paolo's friends had the courage for frivolity in hisgrave presence, harmless as it might appear in his absence, and thiswatchword was often heard in the cloister as he approached. 

He was conversing earnestly with his secretary, Fra Fulgenzio, evidentlyon business of the Senate, having remained in the convent all day, contrary to his usual custom; Fra Fulgenzio had been to and fro withmessages, and once had returned from the Ducal Palace escorting severalgrave personages who had gone to Fra Paolo's cell for some conference, which gave rise to pleasant comment in the convent--since theSerenissimo could not dispense with the personal service of itsConsultore for a single day, and every honor shown to Fra Paolo was dearto the hearts of the Servi. 

Fra Paolo paused only for a moment as he passed the group to exchange agreeting, but his keen, quiet glance took in every expression, from theaffectionate smile of old Fra Giulio to the jealous discontent of FraAntonio, whose gaze drooped before him while he hastened to give theaccustomed sign of reverence due to one so high in authority. 

Fra Paolo considered him seriously for a moment before resuming hisstroll. "Fra Antonio, " he said, in his passionless voice, "the head ofthe Roman Chapter hath made inquiry for thee, and knew naught of thypresence here. Thou wilt soon be recalled. That thou doest--do quickly. "

A sudden pallor overspread the features of Fra Antonio, who staggeredand would have fallen, as he made an effort to steal away unobserved, had not the others come to his assistance. 

"What is thy sudden ailment?" one of them asked him roughly, for he wasno favorite. 

But before the trembling friar could steady his voice or choose hiswords he was forgotten, for the evening bells began to chime forvespers, and as the brothers came flocking through the cloisters thegreat bell at the entrance gate on the Fondamenta dei Servi sent backthe special deep-toned call, which took precedence of every order withinthe convent. Those who had already reached the chapel streamed back inwild confusion to answer the summons which filled the court withclanging echoes, while the silvery notes of the chapel chimes soundedfaintly in the pauses of the deeper reverberations--like the voice of atimid child crying to be comforted when it does not understand. 

In the excitement that followed Fra Antonio was forgotten by all but FraGiulio, who had been watching him closely as he made his way withdifficulty toward the low, arched passage which led in the direction ofthe dormitory. 

"Lean on me, " said Fra Giulio, who stood barring the way. 

"Nay, " replied the other, who seemed scarcely able to stand, "I mustneeds reach my cell; a sudden illness hath overtaken me. "

But Fra Giulio, usually so compassionate that he was called "womanhearted, " did not move. 

"Later a remedy shall be brought thee, " he answered coldly. "Thouhearest the great summons which none of our order may disobey; it israre and solemn to hear that call. Something of moment hath chanced. _Ecco_, now we shall know!" he added in a tone of relief, as FraGianmaria appeared from under the convent entrance, whither he had goneto receive the Chief of the Ten, who now entered the great court withhim in formal state, with a secretary and attendants and an officer ofthe guards. 

The tumultuous crowd began to range itself in orderly groups at thecommand of the superior, and Fra Antonio controlled himself with asupreme effort as a body of palace guards, in brilliant uniforms, scattered themselves among the black-robed friars. The heavy gatesclosed behind them, and the dismal tolling of the bell ended in asilence through which the heart-beats of Fra Antonio sounded in his earslouder and more ominous than the harsh tones of the summons had done amoment before. 

Who were those two terrible gondoliers all in black, who stood by thewater-entrance on the Fondamenta? Was it the shadow of their great blackhats that darkened their features like masks? Why were they there?

He glanced stealthily at the faces of the friars; they were more full ofinterest than dread, while the eyes of the little choristers who stoodrobed for chapel service shone with delight. Evidently to all thatcommunity the interruption was an event filled with possibilities ofexcitement that was welcomed as breaking the monotony of the dailyround. Perhaps no one had noticed those gondoliers! Only FatherGianmaria, the Superior, and the Senator Giustinian Giustiniani, theChief of the Ten, were stern and angry; and Fra Paolo stood betweenthem--calm and inscrutable as ever. 

Now, thought Fra Antonio, before the curiosity of the friars had beensatisfied, --while no one was thinking of him, --he must escape! But atevery passage leading out of the court a scarlet coat stood guard, saveonly before the low doorway of the dormitory stair. Fra Giulio's eyeswere fixed earnestly, adoringly, upon his beloved Fra Paolo, and he hadmoved a little way from the wall. 

Fra Antonio stole softly in behind him, breathlessly anxious. He wasalready under the archway when his unsteady foot stumbled in a hollow ofthe worn brick pavement just within the opening--in another moment heshould be safe! But a voice, meant for him alone, leaped through allthat crowd and petrified him with horror; it was filled with a sarcasticgrace as it offered the courtesy. 

"Whoever hath need to leave this cloister before the Inquiry of Veniceis satisfied, shall be served by the gondola of the _Piombi_--whichwaits. "

I Piombi! Those prisons under the leads where the heat was slowtorture--this was the meaning of the masked gondoliers!

Surely it was the Chief of the Ten who had spoken! Fra Antonio trembledfrom head to foot; but was he not already far enough within the narrow, winding passage to be hidden from the cruel gaze of that man of power?Half an inch might make the difference between life and death; he foldedhis black gown closer about him--stealthily--so that it might notrustle, watching the faint shadow on the pavement in agony--what if hishand had been seen as he passed it behind him to gather up the folds!

Those words could not be meant for him; they were merely a generalorder; there were twenty men--forty men in that company more wicked thanhe! He could not turn back and face them to glide into his place again;it would be certain death; but when the Chief of the Ten or FatherGianmaria should begin to speak, he must go on. 

He lifted one foot to be ready; a great sweat broke out on hisforehead--would this silence never end? He dared not stir until thereshould be words to hold the crowd; for if he should be caught----

Were they speaking?--His heart thumped so that he could not hear. SantaMaria!--death could not be worse!

"Thou art summoned; they are calling thee, " said Fra Giulio, closebeside him, in a low, hard voice that changed to one more compassionateas the friar turned his livid face toward him. "I know not thy fault, but Fra Paolo will plead for thee; for thou art ill, verily. "

"Fra Paolo is no man of mercy. "

"Nay, but of justice. He will not remember thy discourtesies. "

"_Discourtesies_!" ay, it was true; Fra Giulio did not know--nobodyknew; he would take courage and plead to be forgiven his manifold"discourtesies" toward this idol of the Servi; it was for this that hewas summoned! The palace guards were approaching the low passage, andthe extremity of his need steadied him; he rallied all his powers for alast effort, and, shaking off their touch, advanced into the court--hisface, withered and pain-stricken, might have plead for him but for thestrange hardness of the lines. 

"It was a sudden malady that bade me seek my cell, " he gasped. "I knewnot that your Excellency had need of me. "

He was a ghastly thing in his fear. 

The inexorable Chief of the Ten surveyed him in silence for a briefmoment that seemed unending. 

"Ay, Fra Antonio, we _have_ need of thee--more than another. For wordhath reached Venice, privately, from special friendly sources in Rome, that thou art come hither charged with a message of vital import to atrusted servant of the Republic. Thou hast leave of the Signoria todeclare it in this presence. "

Fra Antonio opened his dry lips and framed some words of which he heardno echo. 

"The Inquiry of Venice is satisfied, " said the Chief. "Thou art the manwhom we seek. Conduct him to the gondola of the Piombi. "

Fra Antonio fell upon his knees in wild supplication as the guardsgathered around him, but the Father Superior detained them with aprohibitory motion. 

"I crave your Excellency's pardon. For the better ruling of thiscommunity and the clearing of all the innocent among our brotherhood, Ihave summoned hither every soul under my rule. That no scandal mayarise, your Excellency will permit that the charge under which thisarrest is made be declared. "

Assent was given by an impatient gesture. 

"Fra Antonio, while he hath been a recipient of our hospitality, " saidthe Superior, "is described by trustworthy advices from our Chapter inRome, but just received, as a person who hath designs upon the life of amember of this community. "

"It is a false scandal, " cried Fra Antonio, who had found his voice atlast. "I shall not be condemned without proof!"

"The truth is known, " said Fra Paolo, leaning toward him and speakinglow. "It were better for thee to confess--or depart in silence. "

But the man was beside himself with fear; he caught at his last, desperate chance of favor, dragging himself to the feet of Fra Paolo andpouring out an abject tale of petty jealousies and offenses for which heobsequiously craved pardon of this "idol of the convent, " protesting, with horrible oaths, that he was guilty of nothing more. 

The rare shade of compassion that had softened Fra Paolo's face when hegave his warning, deepened to a glory and his eyes shone with a gracethat was like love, as he raised the wretched man and strove to arresthis torrent of words. "_God_ heareth thee, my brother, " he saidpleadingly; "have pity on thine own soul. Kneel to Him alone in thygreat need. But spend not thy strength with trifles that demean us both. If thine heart hath aught against me, I forgive it. "

Then turning to the Chief he besought that the trial should beshort--"For the man is ill, and I would have quiet speech with him. "

"For the honor of the Servi, let the matter be dispatched, and let proofbe brought, " the Superior demanded, surprised and displeased at anysoftness in Fra Paolo, whose dominant note was justice, rather thanmercy. 

"We will grant him the favor of a farewell collation ere he taketh leaveof his entertainers, " said the Giustinian. "Let the refection bebrought. "

The friars exchanged glances of astonishment and dismay as a dish offruit and of white bread were brought forward by two of the ducalguards, on a costly salver wrought with the arms of Venice. It was likethe simple refreshment they had often carried to Fra Paolo's cell whenhe had been absorbed by some train of thought, which, according to hiswont, he would not suspend for any hour of sleep or meals until theproblem had been conquered. Fra Giulio trembled; he would have saidthose were the very grapes he had chosen to tempt Fra Paolo's slenderappetite, --white, with the veins of purple, --all as he had left them onhis desk that day, with the plate of fine white bread, when the middaymeal was served--but in no lordly dish. 

A faint cry escaped Fra Antonio, and he put his hands before his face. 

There was a moment of breathless silence; but no compassion anywhereupon all those strained and eager faces, except in the eyes of FraPaolo, which seemed divine in pity, as he drew nearer the guilty man andput his arm about him to steady him. 

"These, " said the Chief of the Ten, "fine grapes and wheaten bread, exquisitely flavored with a most precious powder, thou shalt presentlyenjoy in this presence, --with the compliments of the Signoria, who havemost carefully considered this repast, --unless thou dost instantly makefrank and full confession of thy deed and thine accomplices. 

"And if more be to thy taste, " the cruel voice went on, for no answercame, "since in these matters thou hast a consummate knowledge--thou artpermitted, by grace of the Signoria, to use the contents of this packet, which hath been found within the lining of thy cassock. This powder hatha marvelous power to still the blood which floweth over-swiftly----"

"We have proof more than sufficient for the arrest, your Excellency, "interposed the officer of the guards, as he gave the signal. "And nodeposition can be taken here, for the man hath fainted from his fright. "

But almost unnoticed the guards bore their burden from the cloister tothe gondola of the prisons of the Piombi; for it had taken but a momentto complete the unfinished tale in the minds of the listeners, and withone accord they were gathering about Fra Paolo, eager to express theirloyalty, their indignation, their gratitude for his escape. 

The court was in a tumult. "Fra Paolo!" "_Our_ Fra Paolo!" mingled withbursts of vehement condemnation and rapid questions. "Our Consultore!""And because he is necessary to Venice!"

The chimes of the chapel sounding joyously broke in upon thesedemonstrations, and two little choristers came running back to tell themthat, by order of Fra Gianmaria, a Te Deum for the safety of Fra Paolowould be sung, in lieu of the interrupted vesper service. 

"The Signoria hath had warnings without end, " the Chief of the Ten wasexplaining hastily to Father Gianmaria, as they strolled toward thechapel. "The Holy Father wanteth him out of Venice, since he hath beenConsultore--for the man is a marvel! But he would rather have him alivethan dead--as the learned Scioppius hath explained, not long since, toFra Paolo himself! And this whole plot hath been unveiled to us by onewho watcheth secretly in Rome for the interest of Venice, since therehath been no open communication. It was hatched in the Orsini palace, inthat holy city, not unknown to some of their Eminences; the chiefaccomplices are friars--we have the names of the other two; and PieroSalin is on the watch. The stakes are high for the friars' game--fivethousand _scudi_ apiece and a promise of Church preferment; but PieroSalin hath ways of doing his duty! The Senate will send orders for thebetter protection of its Consultore; meanwhile let him not venture forthwithout two ducal guards. "

"Your Excellency knoweth that Fra Paolo will have no state. "

"A cowl over their saintly faces, if it please his fancy! It is theorder of the Senate, waiting better plans of safety--a suite in theDucal Palace or a house connected therewith by some guarded passage. Warning hath been sent us most urgently, by friends of the Republic, ofa great price and absolution for him who may bring Fra Paolo toRome--alive or dead!"

XXVII

These days had been important in the Senate. In the deliberations priorto the departure of di Gioiosa the concessions which Rome hadpersistently asked had been so persistently and diplomatically declinedthat even the wily cardinal dared no longer press them; and it seemed atlast that there was to be truce to the cautious and subtle word-weighingof months past, as di Gioiosa, suddenly realizing that he held theultimatum of the Republic, had taken his departure for Rome in thenight--conceiving it easier, perhaps, to confess his partial defeat tothe dignified Signoria by proxy. So he made the announcement through agentleman of his household the next morning, while he was alreadyjourneying toward the expectant Pope, to whom he carried bitterdisappointment; and the heart of the cardinal himself had been scarcelyless set upon those points of amelioration which he had not obtained. Itwas a blow to his diplomacy and to his churchman's pride; for the termswhich the cardinal was empowered to offer were scarcely less haughtythan was the attitude which Venice had assumed throughout the quarrel. 

His Holiness had wished that Venice, as a first step, should cancel the"Protest" which she had widely published, declaring the interdictinvalid. 

But Venice, with cool logic, had declined to accede to this; since theprotest, being based upon the censures, was practically annulled bytheir withdrawal--which must therefore first take place. And, althoughby this same logic she was led to declare that no act on the part of theRepublic would then be necessary to void her protest, she consented togive a writing to that effect, so soon as the censures should have beenwithdrawn. 

The Pope requested that all who had left Venice on account of theinterdict should, upon its withdrawal, return and be reinstated in theirformer privileges--making a special point of including the Jesuits. 

But here, also, Venice made and kept to her amendment; all shouldreturn, with full privilege and favor--save only the Jesuits, who had invarious ways rendered themselves obnoxious to the government. 

The revocation of those laws which the Pope demanded was not to bethought of, since this would be questioning the right of Venice to makelaws; neither was their suspension possible, for the laws were just. Buthis Holiness might rest assured that they would be used in moderationand Christian piety only--as they had ever been. 

The real concession--the only one--was in the case of the ecclesiasticalprisoners--the Abbot of Nervessa and the Canon of Vicenza--whom hisHoliness persisted in claiming. But Monsieur du Fresne, the FrenchAmbassador, suggested that the Republic should, "without prejudice toher right of jurisdiction over criminal ecclesiastics, " _give_ theseprisoners to the ambassador as a mark of special favor to his king, themediator, who might then consign them to the Pope if he chose--theybeing his to deal with. 

Venice, with her powers of subtle reasoning, gladly embraced this wayout of the difficulty which had first appeared insuperable. "So to_give_ them, " she said, appeased, "confirms rather than questions ourauthority, since no one may 'give' to another that over which heexercises no dominion. "

It was not Venice, but France, who was to request that the interdict bewithdrawn, that she might not seem to other nations to be under the ban;for the Republic did not acknowledge that this condition of disfavor hadgone into effect; she could not therefore personally request the Pope tochange an attitude which put only himself in the wrong. But when therewas a hint of "absolution, " which the cardinal in his zeal would alsoask the Holy Father to pronounce, Venice was silent from displeasure. She had done no wrong; she would neither ask nor accept absolution. 

The Senate might indeed be weary of these interminable discussions andunending compliments, and glad of a respite in which to turn to othermatters. But there were no idle hours in that august assembly, though itmight chance that some whimsical phase of statesmanship lightened, byway of entr'acte, the severity of their deliberations. They were, possibly, not unpleasantly aware of the irony of the situation when aletter from their governor in Constantinople announced "the extremesolicitude of the Turkish Government for the life and welfare of theHoly Father, " who had so furthered their interests by widely incitingdiscord among the nations of Christianity that, seeing therein a mark ofthe special favor of Allah, the sultan had ordered prayers andprocessions for the continued welfare of his Holiness!

The singular jealousy of the Venetians for the solidarity of theirgovernment, with their no less singular jealousy of individualaggrandizement, together with the rare perception of mentalcharacteristics that was fostered by the daily culture of the councilsin which every noble took his part, led them constantly to ignore theirselfish hopes in order to choose the right man for the place. Thesesentiments, acting and reacting upon each other, had secured theirpolitical prosperity; but a disaffection was beginning to make itselffelt in the Senate which led ultimately to over-limitations of power andsuch multiplied checks and suspicions that noble living and wise rulingbecame impossible. 

It was a time of suppressed excitement, and there had been a gravediscussion as to the growing power of the Ten, against which some of thesenators had dared to express themselves openly; for many of thesestrong men were beginning to feel that their government weighed uponthem like a Fate, crushing all liberty and individuality; and of secrettrials without defense there were tragic memories haunting the annals ofthat grave tribunal. 

But so great were the complications of the involved Venetian machine--somany were the mysteries and fears environing the daily life of thesepatricians--that each felt the actual to be safer than the untriedunknown, and surrendered the hope of change, tightening the cords thatupheld the government as their only means of safety. 

For there was an under side to all this gold-tissued splendor that wassometimes laid bare to the people, in spite of the deftness with whichthe Signoria stood tirelessly ready to cover up the flaws; and a recentsad travesty of justice was one of the weird happenings of this time. 

Not long since a formal _decree of pardon_ had been solemnly declaredand published throughout Venetia, at which the people stood aghast. Forthe man to whom this clemency was graciously extended had been condemnedand executed between the columns of San Marco and San Teodoro, ten yearsbefore--standing accused of conspiracy against the State. There had beenmany murmurings when the name of this old patrician, holding honorableoffice in service of the Republic, had been erased from the Golden Book;and he had suffered his ignominious death protesting that the charge wasfalse, and that all who had aided in his condemnation should die beforethe year was out. His dying words had proved a grim prophecy, which, encouraged by the pressure of the senators, induced the Signoria toorder a re-investigation of his case, whereby the _manes_ of thisdishonored servant of the State were re-instated in that serene favornow so worthless. 

And to-day the people gathered in gloomy silence while the great bell ofthe campanile tolled the call to the solemn funeral pageant by which theRepublic offered reparation over the exhumed body of the victim. Thesenators, wrapped in mourning cloaks, surrounded the bust of the manthey desired to honor as it was carried in triumph to the church wherethe tomb was prepared; and the three _avvogadori_, who had the keepingof the Golden Book, bore it on a great cushion behind the marble effigy, the leaf bound open where the name was re-inscribed. Here also walkedthe domestics of the re-habilitated noble of Venice--the hatchments thathad been doomed to oblivion freshly embroidered upon their sleeves abovetheir tokens of crêpe. The Doge and the Signoria all took part in thistragic confession of wrong, doing penance unflinchingly for the sins oftheir predecessors; for Venice could be munificent in reparation, notshrinking from her own humiliation to appease outraged justice andconfirm her power, and there was nothing lacking that might addimpressiveness to the pageant. 

But the people looked on gloomy and unappeased, filled with a horrorwhich the funeral pomp did little to quiet; they did not follow as the_cortège_ descended the steps of the Piazzetta to embark in the waitinggondolas that had been lavishly provided by the Republic. SantissimaMaria! they wanted to get back to their own quarters on the Giudecca andbreathe a little sunshine! What did one noble matter, less or more? "Butit's a gloomy barcarolle that a dead man sings!"

"And one that hath not died his own death!" a woman answered under herbreath, as she crossed herself with a shudder. 

The wind inflated the empty folds of the crimson robe that draped thebier, carrying it almost into the water, as the gondolas glided awayfrom the Piazzetta. 

"San Marco save us! he wanted none of their pomp, " said an onlookerscornfully. "The ten good years of his life and a quiet grave in SanMichele--the Signoria would buy them dear, to give them to _him_to-day!"

Yet if some had died unjustly, there was not less need of ceaselessvigilance against unceasing intrigue, within and without that body whichheld the power; and one morning the Senate was thrown into a state ofgreat agitation by disclosures from one of the brothers of the Frari, indubitably confirmed by the papers which he delivered into the hands ofthe Doge. 

"It is beyond belief!" Giustinian Giustiniani exclaimed to the LadyLaura, "how Spain findeth method to make traitors in Venice itself! Itis a nation treacherous to the core, and it were beyond the diplomacy ofany government, --save only ours, --to maintain relations on such a basisof fraud. "

"What is there of new to chide them for?" she asked with keen interest. 

"Is not the old enough to make one wrathful! Boastful threats of armsagainst the Republic if she yield not obedience to the Holy Father, withsecret promises of armed assistance to his Holiness to keep him firm inhis course, at the very moment of her cringing attempts at mediationlest France should carry off the glory!--and because Spain hath neithermen to spare for Rome, nor courage to declare against the Republic, nordiplomacy to bring anything to an issue!"

"Nay, now them art returned to Venice forget the disturbing ways ofSpain, " the Lady Laura answered, with an attempt at conciliation. "I amglad that thy mission in that strange land hath come to an end. "

"Ay, but the ways of Spain do make traitors of us all!" Giustinianexclaimed hotly. "When a senator of the Republic hath such amity for theambassador of his Most Catholic Majesty, forsooth, that at vespers andat matins, in the Frari, they must use the self-same kneeling stool--atenderness and devotion beautiful to see in men so great; for it is ayeone, and aye the other, and never both who tell their beads atonce--that, verily, some brother of the Frari doth take cognizance of athing so rare and saintly and bringeth word thereof to the Serenissimo, _with matter of much interest found within the prie-dieu_. "

"Giustinian!"

"Ay, these minutes of the noble Senator, who acteth so well the spy forfavor of Spain, would do honor to a ducal secretary, for accuracy ofinformation concerning weighty private matters before the Council! Anddue acknowledgment of so rare a courtesy doth not fail us in the veryhand of the ambassador himself, for this letter also was intercepted!This frate who hath brought the information verily deserveth honor forso great a service!"

"And the others?"

"Is there more than one treatment for a traitor?" Giustinian exclaimed, with increasing temper. "And for the ambassador--it hath already beencourteously signified to him that the air of Venice agreeth not wellwith one of his devotional tendencies. "

"Tell me the name of the traitor, " the Lady Laura urged, coming closeand laying her hand upon his shoulder. 

"Nay, " said her husband, shaking off her touch impatiently, "my angerdoth unlock my speech to a point I had not dreamed, for the matter maybe held before the Inquisition! But it is a name unknown to thee, andnew to this dignity, which he weareth like a clown! The freedom is stilltoo great for this entry to the Senate; the serrata hath done its worktoo lightly if it leave space for one parvenu! To-morrow, when thoutakest the air in thy gondola, my Lady Laura, thou shalt look betweenthe columns of the Ducal Palace and know whatever the State will declareto thee of that which concerneth the government alone! The times areperilous. "

"They will be better when the interdict is removed----"

"Ay--no--one knows not; it is a matter too grave for women and toolittle for the Republic to grieve about. His Holiness would have us onour knees, weeping like naughty infants, and abjectly craving his pardonfor daring to make our own laws and uphold our prince!"

"Giustinian, there is more to it than that. "

"Ay, there _is_ more, if it setteth the women up to preach to us and toexpound the laws of the Republic--a knowledge in which I knew not thatthey held the mastery! Take not the tone of Marina, who hath come nearto killing herself and making half a fool of Marcantonio. "

"Nay, Marco is true to Venice and swerveth not. And for ourdaughter--she hath suffered till it breaks my heart to look into herface, poor child! And thou, Giustinian, wert little like thyself, whenshe lay almost dying! The Signor Nani hath confessed to me that in Romethere was much intriguing for her favor--of which she suspected naught. It was a harm to them that they went to Rome; I would not have had itso. "

"Ay, thou would'st not have had it so; thou would'st have had it allthine own way!" retorted Giustinian, who was becoming impossible toplease, now that the paths of government were growing more thorny andexacting, and the Lion showed no sign of climbing to his portal. "Thatfather confessor of hers hath much to answer for. Keep the little onewell out of the way of their craft--dost thou hear? He is to be trainedfor Venice, after the ways of the Ca' Giustiniani. And Marcantonio--whoknows?"

He had drifted into his favorite reverie, and wandered abstractedly outupon the balcony looking longingly toward the rose-colored palace wherehis every ambition centred; but he felt the glittering, jeweled eyes ofthe patron saint of Venice glare upon him mockingly from his vantagepoint upon the column, while the very twist of the out-thrust tongueinsinuated a personal message of malice and defeat. 

XXVIII

Venice was flooded with moonlight. The long line of palaces down theCanal Grande shone back from the breast of the water, starred withlights, repeated again and again in the rippling surface. 

A ceaseless melody filled the air, braided of sounds familiar only tothis magic city--echoes of laughter from balconies high in air, silverytintinnabulations falling like drippings of water from speeding oars, franker bursts of merriment from the open windows of the palaces, lowmurmured tones of lovers in content from gliding gondolas, hoarse shoutsof quick imperious orders from gondoliers to offending gondoliers, asthey passed--apostrophes to liquid names of guardian saints, toomelodious for denunciations, hurled back with triple expletives andforgotten the next moment in friendly parsiflage; here and there astrain of ordered music, in serenade, from a group of friendly gondolasswaying only with the tranquil movement of the water; or the mysterioustone of a violin, uttering a soul prayer meant for some single listener, which yet steals tremblingly forth upon the night air--more passionate, more beautiful and true than that other human voice which breaks thequiet of a neighboring calle with some monotonous love song of thepeople. 

And far away, perhaps, in the quainter squares of the more primitiveisland villages--in Burano or Chioggia--before the Duomo, some readerlies at full length in the brilliant moonlight under the banner of SanMarco, his "Boccaccio" open before him, repeating in a half-chant, monotonous and droning, some favorite tale from the well-worn pages tolisteners who pause in groups in their evening stroll and linger untilanother story is begun; this time it is some strophe from the"Gerusalemme, " to which a passing gondolier may chant the answeringstrain--for this is the very poem of the people, echoing familiarly fromlip to lip, and tales from the Tasso are not seldom wrought into theebony carvings of their barks. Meanwhile the younger men and maidens, ona neighboring fondamenta, keep step to the music of some strollingplayer who lives, content, on the trifling harvest of these moonlightfestivities. 

In the great Piazza of San Marco, with its hundreds of lights and itshurrying throng, life is gayer than in the day. Crowds come and go underthe arcades, loiter at the tables closely set before the brilliantcafes, or stroll with laughter and snatches of song and free Venetianbanter where there is less restraint, up and down the broad space of thePiazza, between the colonnade and the burnished Eastern magnificence ofSan Marco, beyond the reach of the yellow lamp flames--their laughingfaces grotesque and weird in the white glare of the moon. But under theshadow of the Broglio and those great columns of the Ducal Palace thereare only slow-moving figures here and there, wrapped in cloaks, and darkunder the low, unlighted arches, talking in undertones which even thewatchful Lion--so near, so cunning--does not always overhear. 

But in the calles, half in moonlight and half in shadow, night wears amore poetic air of mystery and quiet; and if a fear but come in passingsome dread spot of tragic memory, a gentle Virgin at every turning, witha dingy, flickering flame beneath her image, is waiting to grant hergrace--for is not Venice the Virgin City? And on the splendid palaces inthe broad canals the watching Madonna stands glorified in exquisitesculpture and cunningest blendings of color, --ofttimes a crown of lightabove her, or rays of stars, symbolic, beneath her feet, --casting herbenediction far out on the water, which, ever in motion, repeats it inshimmering, widening circles--all-embracing--in which the stars ofheaven shine, tangled and confused with these stars of a paradise inwhich earth has so large a part. 

Yet in the glory and charm of this Venetian night how should there bespace for sorrow or thought of care, or cause for the tears whichbrimmed the eyes of the Lady Marina, as she sat in her sculpturedbalcony at the bend of the Canal Grande, watching for the coming ofMarcantonio, who lingered late at the Senate when every moment wasprecious to her!

Ever since her husband had left her she had sat with her little onegathered convulsively in her arms, showering upon him a tenderness sopassionate and so unlike herself in its uncontrolled expression, thatthe child, wondering and afraid, was but half-beguiled by the rare treatof the music and the lights of the Canal Grande, and clamored for hisnurse. 

And now he was gone, with a kiss upon his sweet, round baby-mouth thatwas like a benediction and a dirge in which a whole heart of wild motherlove sobbed itself out in renunciation--but to him it was only strange. And she herself had hushed the grieving quiver of his lip, and quicklyfilled his dimpled hands with flowers to win the farewell caress of thatdancing smile which irradiated his face like an April sunbeam, partingthe pink lips over a vision of pearly infant teeth. 

Below, in the chapel, her maidens were decking it as for a festa withvines and blossoms which she and Marco had brought that day--thatheavenly day--from the beautiful island of Sant' Elenà, wandering alone, like rustic lovers, over the luxuriant flower-starred meadows andthrough the cloistered gardens of its ancient convent, lingering awhilein the chapel of the Giustiniani, while he rehearsed the deeds of thoseof his own name who slept there so tranquilly under their marbleeffigies--primate, ambassadors, statesmen, and generals; ay, and morethan these--lovers, mothers, and little ones!

And now, while she sat alone in this holy moonlight, the voices of hermaidens came in sounds of merriment through the fretted stonework of thegreat window, and a sweet odor of altar candles and incense mingled withthe breath of the blossoms that was wafted up to her; for to-morrow, forthe first time since her illness, there would be matins in the chapelof the palazzo, and Marcantonio had assured her that the new fatherconfessor was much like Fra Francesco--coming, also, from the convent ofthe Servi, that he might seem nearer to her who had so loved the gentleconfessor. 

Ay, she had loved him, with a holy reverence, for his goodness andgentleness and faith; for his inflexible grasp of duty, according to hisviews of right; for his teachings, which she could understand and whichshe believed the Holy Mother had taught him--for his self-denial andsuffering. 

And now, for a few moments, she forgot herself--forgot to watch forMarco, her thoughts busied with the sad tale of Fra Francesco, whichPiero, always _in viaggio_ for business of the Senate, had told her buta few days before--news that had reached him from the frontier. Thegentle confessor had indeed completed his pilgrimage, barefooted, toRome, but had gained no favor with the Holy Father; having at first beenwelcomed as a deserter from the enemy's camp, flattered, and plied withquestions, to which Fra Francesco gave no answers--wishing no harm toVenice nor to any who sat in the councils of the Republic. Whereupon hislodgings had been changed and all communications with the brothers ofthe Servite chapel in Rome had been forbidden. And again, and more thanonce, he had been brought forth to be questioned; and again there hadbeen nothing told of that which they sought, for they asked him of hisfriends, and his heart was true. But it was told that he had usedstrange words. "Each man is answerable to his own soul and to God forthat which he believeth. He answereth not for the faith of anotherman--nor shall he bring danger upon his friend--who hath also hisconscience and God for judge of his faith and actions. "

"But what of Fra Paolo?" he had been asked; "How doth he defend himselffor leading thus the cause of Venice against Rome?"

"Am I my brother's keeper?" the gentle Fra Francesco had answered; andhad said no more. 

"Thou shalt at least show us how one may obtain speech with him, for thefurtherance of his soul's salvation--apart from the vigilance of theSenate, and without suspicion in the convent that the message comethfrom Rome, else were it not received in that unholy city. "

And in this also Fra Francesco was obdurate. And then, for disobedienceto authority, acknowledged lawful by his own submission, cameprison--wherein he languished, always obdurate, --and death, --perhapsfrom discontent or homesickness, one knows not; or from failure of hisplans; or--there was a question of torture, but one knows not if it weretrue. 

"No, no, it was not true!" Marina had exclaimed, quivering, when Pierohad told her the story. "It is wicked to say these things--and they arenot true!"

But now, alone--apart from all the brightness about her, from every hopeof happiness except those few brief hours with Marco--she did not knowif it might not be true; her heart was too sad to deny any pain that hadbeen or that might be; but Fra Francesco's sad and gentle eyes seemed tosmile upon her through whatever distance might be between them--ofthis, or of any other world--without reproach for those who had biddenhim suffer, and charging her to keep her faith. 

"If it be true, " she said, "the end of pain is reached, and he hath wonhis happiness. --Why cometh not my Marco?"

A gondola of the Nicolotti detached itself from a group of serenadersjust above the palace, was caught for a few moments among the _pali_before the Ca' Giustiniani, and then floated leisurely down toward thePiazzetta. She noted it idly while she sat waiting for Marco, for in thegondola there was a graceful figure, closely wrapped, clasping hermantle yet more closely with a hand that was white and slender enoughfor one of the nobility; yet the gondolier wore the black sash of theNicolotti with the great hat of a bravo shading his face. "It is someintrigue, " she said, almost unconsciously, in the midst of her saddreaming. 

"Oh, Marco, thou art come! It hath been long without thee. "

"The Senate is but just dismissed, " he answered, smiling fondly at theeagerness which gave to her pale face a passing flush of health. "Butwhy is the Lady Beata not with thee?" he questioned abruptly. 

"She is in the chapel, making it fair with flowers. "

"Thou knowest it, Marina?"

"She came to me with a question but a little while ago, when Marconinowas with me--and I wished to be alone. Marco, he was so beautiful! Andthe day has been a dream; I wished for no one but for thee alone. "

He held her hand in a mute caress, but with preoccupation, while hiseyes wandered back to the Piazzetta searchingly. 

"It is strange, " he muttered to himself, still watching from the end ofthe balcony. "It was an echo of the Lady Beata's voice that startled me, crossing the Piazzetta saying two words only--'In Padua. '"

Then rousing himself, he turned brightly to his wife. "Carina, I havenews for thee, for the time hath been momentous for us in Venice. DiGioiosa hath gone forward, these many days, with terms from Venice; andsoon, it is thought, there will be peace. "

_Terms_ from Venice to Rome!--but the words did not move her from herresolve to let no shadow of their difference mar the beauty of thisnight. 

She looked at him wearily. "It is ever the same, " she said, "throughthis long, dreary year--ever the same! Let us forget it all for this onenight. Let us talk together of our Marconino!"

And as if there had been no questions--no interdict--no pain--while thenight sounds died into silence and the moon withdrew her glamor and leftthem alone to the solemn mystery of the starlight, they sat and talkedtogether of love and their little one and their hopes for him, and ofthings that lie too deep for utterance--save by one to one--far intothat beautiful Venetian night, with the odor of flowers and incenseblown up to them on the breath of the sea. 

XXIX

The yellow lamp flames were burning late in the cabinet of GirolamoMagagnati, who took less note of the difference between evening hoursand those of early dawn since there was no longer in his household abeloved one to guard from weariness. Nay, the night was rather the timein which he might forget himself and plunge more whole-heartedly intohis schemes of work--financial or creative. For the world was surely onthe eve of discoveries important to his art, and it would be well if hemight secure them, before his working days should pass, for theStabilimento Magagnati. 

Piero Salin stood in the doorway as he glanced up from the drawings thatlittered his table--the dark oak table which had seemed a centre ofcheer to Girolamo, when, in this very chamber, his child had made aradiance for him in which the lines of his life shone large andsatisfying. 

Girolamo never seemed to remember that this son-in-law was a great manamong the people; to him he was only Piero Salin, barcariol; the singletoken of the old man's favor was that in his thought he no longer addedthe despicable word _toso_; and it was a proof that he was mellowingwith the years, for Girolamo never forgot this unwelcome anddishonorable past, and Piero was always ill at ease in his presence. 

"Messer Magagnati, " he began awkwardly, twirling his black cap in hishand rather after the fashion of a gondolier than of the Chief of theNicolotti, "I must crave, by dawn of the morrow, the blessing of SanNicolò--of holy memory. "

"Enter, " said Girolamo, with a reluctance not wholly concealed by hisattempt at courtesy, for he felt the moments to be the more preciousthat the dawn was near; but the invocation of the sailor's patron saintportended a journey. "Verily, Piero, thy comings and goings have been, of late, so frequent that one learns the wisdom of not mourningover-much when thou dost crave an ave at the shrine of San Nicolò. Mayhe grant thee favoring breezes! Thou art in favor with the Ten, theytell me. "

Piero shrugged his shoulders. "Favor or disfavor, " he said, "it is butthe turning of the head--and both may lead to that place of unsoughtdistinction between San Marco and San Teodoro, if the orders of theirExcellencies bring not the end they sought. But it matters little--acandle flame is better blown out than dying spent. "

"And whither art thou bent on the morrow?"

"Nay, Messer Girolamo, that is not mine own secret. But this word wouldI leave with thee; if, perchance, I return not before many days, seek meon the border-land--at the point nearest Roman dominions. " He had comeclose to the old merchant, and uttered the last words in a tone very lowand full of meaning. 

Girolamo started. "On the border-land of Rome!" he echoed. "This missionof thine is then weighty; and thou fearest----"

"Nay, I fear naught, " said Piero haughtily. "But the times are perilous;and later, if thou would'st seek me, thou hast the clew. But of themission, to which I am sworn in secrecy, let it not be known that I haveso much as named it--it would argue ill for me and thee. And the clew isfor thy using only. Meanwhile, forget that I have spoken. The Ave Mariawill soon waken the fishers of Murano. _Addio_!"

But he still waited as if he had not uttered all his mind. Girolamostudied his face closely. 

"There is more, " he said. "Speak!"

"By the Holy Madonna of San Donato!" said Piero, casting off hisrestraint with a sudden impulse, "if I come not back, I would have theeknow that if ever there came a chance to me to serve Marina--the LadyMarina of the Giustiniani--I, Piero, barcariol or gastaldo, would serveher as a soldier may serve a saint. For she hath been good to theZuanino. Ay, though it cost me my life, I would serve her like a saintin heaven!" he repeated. Then, flushed with the shame of such unwontedspeech and confession, he hastened to the door, and his steps werealready resounding on the stone floor of the passage when Girolamorecovered from his astonishment sufficiently to follow him into theshadow and command him to stop. 

"Thou hast seen my daughter--thou hast news of her?"

"Ay, yestere'en, at the Ave Maria, I spoke with her, in Santa Mariadell' Orto, coming upon her kneeling before the great picture of JacopoRobusti--she, saint enough already to wear a gloria and looking as ifthe heart of her were worn away from grief! She hath need of thee daily, for her love for thee is great, and death not far. "

"Tell it plainly!" commanded Girolamo, hastening after the retreatingfigure and violently grasping his arm to detain him. "Have I failed toher in aught? She is soul of my soul! Maledetto! why dost thou break myheart?"

"Look to thine other son-in-law!" Piero retorted wrathfully; "him of thecrimson robe who sits in the Councils of Venice, and findeth no cure forthy daughter--dying of terror beside him. "

"It is a base slander!" cried old Girolamo, trembling with anger andfear. "Never was wife more beloved and petted! Marcantonio hath nothought, save for Marina and Venice!"

"Ay, 'for Marina and Venice, '" was the scornful answer, "_but Venicefirst_. Splendor and gifts and the pleasing of every whim, if he couldbut guess it--gold for her asking, and her palace no better than a crossfor her dwelling; for the one thing she needeth for her peace and lifehe giveth not!"

"What meanest thou?" cried Girolamo, furiously. "Hath he not spent afortune on physicians--sparing nothing, save to torment her no more, since their skill is but weariness to her! She is eating her heart outfor this quarrel with Rome--which no man may help, and it is butfoolishness for women to meddle with; and she hath ever been too muchunder priestly sway. Why earnest thou hither this night?"

"For this cause and for no other, " said Piero solemnly, "that thoumightest find me, if need should be for any service to her. And to swearto thee, by the Madonna and every saint of Venice, that I would give mylife for her!"

But old Girolamo grew the angrier for Piero's professions of loyalty. "Shall her father do less than thou?" he questioned, wrathfully. "On themorrow will I go to her, and leave her no more until she forgets. "

"By all the saints in heaven, and every Madonna in Venice, and our Ladyof every traghetto!" Piero exclaimed, as he wrenched himself away fromGirolamo's angry grasp, while the old man staggered against the wall, still holding a bit of cloth from the gondolier's cloak in his closedhand, "I am vowed to my mission before this dawn! What I have spoken isfor duty to thine house, and not in anger--though I could color mystiletto in good patrician blood and die for it gaily, if that wouldhelp her!"

But Girolamo could not yet find his voice, and Piero, with his hand onthe latch of the great iron gates of the water-story, turned and calledback: "Women are not like men, and Marina is like no other woman thatever was born in Venice. Whether it be the priests that have bewitchedher--may the Holy Madonna have mercy, and curse them for it!--or whethershe be truly the Blessed Virgin of San Donato come to earth again, oneknows not. But, Messer Magagnati, "--and the voice came solemnly from thedark figure dimly outlined against the gray darkness beyond the ironbars, --"thy daughter is dying for this curse of the Most HolyFather--'il mal anno che Dio le dia!' (may heaven make him suffer forit!)--and she hath no peace in Venice. _She will never forget norchange_. If thy love be great, as thou hast said, thou wilt find someway to help her. _For in Venice she hath no peace_. "

The old merchant, dazed by Piero's hot words, was a pitiful figure, standing, desolate, behind the closed bars of his gate, the night windlifting his long beard and parting the thin gray locks that flowed fromunder his cap, while he called and beckoned impotently to Piero toreturn, repeating meanwhile mechanically, with no perception of theirmeaning, those strange words of Piero's--"_In Venice she hath nopeace_. " He stood, peering out into the gray gloom and listening to thelessening plash of the oar, until the gondola of the gastaldo wasalready far on the way to San Marco, where sat the Ten. 

But it was not of Piero's mission he was thinking, but of hischild--saying over and over again those fateful words, "In Venice shehath no peace. " Had Piero said that?

Suddenly the entire speech recurred to him--insistent, tense withmeaning. She could not live in Venice. Marina had no peace in Venice. She would never forget nor change. She had need of him--of her father'slove; and if he loved enough, _he would find a way_!

Chilled and heart-sick he turned, and with no torch and missing thevoice which had guided him through the long, dark passage, he groped hisway to his cabinet and sat down to confront a graver problem than any hehad ever conquered with Marina's aid. He _would_ find a way--but "itmust not be in Venice!" How could they leave Venice? Were they notVenetians born, and was not Venice in trouble? To leave her now were todeny her. _It could not be_!

He put the argument many times, feverishly at first, then morecalmly--coming always to the same conclusion, "it could not be. " It wasa comfort to reach so sensible and positive a decision. To-morrow hewould go to his daughter, and meanwhile he must continue his work; heneeded to reassert his power, for he had been strangely shaken. 

He drew the scattered papers together, but the lines, blurred andconfused, carried no meaning; the fragments of broken glass in thelittle trays beside him were a dull, untranslucent gray, and written allover papers and fragments, in vivid letters that burned into his brain, were those other terrible words of Piero's which he had tried in vain toforget--"Thy daughter is dying for this curse. " _Marina--dying_!

How should Piero know more about Marina than her own father knew? Did heprofess to be a physician that one should credit his every word? Whatdid he mean by his impudent boast of "dying for her, if need should be!"Had she not her husband and father to care for her? Her husband "who wasdenying her the only thing that could give her life and peace, " Pierohad said. --What was the matter with his insulting words, that he couldnot forget them?--Had she not her father, who was going to her on themorrow, when he had matured his plans, and would do whatever shewished--"in Venice"? Her father "who loved her, as his own soul"--thatwas what he had said to Piero, with the memory of all those dear yearswhen they had been all in all to each other, in this home. 

Was it for hours or moments only that he sat in torture--enduring, reasoning, placing love against pride, Marina against Venice, Veniceagainst a father's weakness, duty to the Republic before the need ofthis only child who was "soul of his soul"?

The last of his race--inheriting the traditions and passionateattachments of that long line of loyal men who had founded and built upthe stabilimento which was the pride of Murano; of the people, yetennobled by the proffer of the Senate, and grandsire to the son of oneof the highest nobles of the Republic--what was there left in life forhim away from Venice? How should he bear to die dishonored anddisinherited by the country which he had deserted in her hour ofstruggle? For never any more might one return who should desert Venicefor Rome!

And those panes of brilliant, crystal clarity which he had dreamed ofadding to the honors of the Stabilimento Magagnati--so strong that asingle sheet might be framed in the great spaces of the windows of thepalaces and show neither curve nor flaw--so pure that their only traceof color should come from a chance reflection which would but lend addedcharm--these might not be the discovery of his later days, though thetime was near in which this gift _must_ come to Venice. He had notdreamed that he could ever say, while strength yet remained to think andplan, "The house of Magagnati has touched its height, and others maycome forward to do the rest for Venice. "

And the secret lay so near--scarcely eluding him!

It was no mere empty jealousy, nor trivial wish for fame, nor greed ofrecompense--of which he had enough--that forced the veins out on thestrong forehead of this master-worker, as he struggled with thisquestion of surrendering all for his daughter's peace. It was the art inwhich his ancestors had taken the lead from the earliest industrialtriumphs of the Republic--an art in which Venice stood first--and in hissimple belief it was not less to their glory than the work of a Titianor a Sansovino. In this field he wrought whole-hearted, with the passionof an artist who has achieved, and his place and part in the Republic, as in life, was bounded for him by his art. "To stand with foldedhands--always, hereafter, to be unnecessary to Venice!"

How should one who had not been born in Venice ever guess the strangefascination of that magic city for her sons, or dream with what apassion the blood of generations of Venetian ancestry surged in one'sveins, compelling patriotism, so that it was not possible to do aughtwith one's gifts and life that did not enhance the greatness of so faira kingdom! It was the wonderful secret of the empire of Venice that herethe pride of self was counted only as a factor in the superior pride ofher dominion. 

Marina had been proud of his cabinet, and he took the little antiquelamp she used to hold for him and unlocked the door with a tremuloushand, standing unsteadily before it and trying to hearten himself, as heruthlessly flashed the light so that each fantastic bit came out inperfect beauty, glowing with the wonderful coloring of transparent gems. 

But suddenly those fearful words of Piero's played riot among them, obliterating every trace of beauty, every claim of Venice, everyquestion as to his own judgment or Marina's reasoning--even the ignominyof the secret flight. "_Thy daughter dying_!"

The letters blazed like stars, gleaming among his papers--glitteringaround the chair where Marina used to sit, climbing up into the air, closing nearer to him--wavering, writhing lines of living fire, tracingthose awful words he could not forget----

"My God!" he cried, "is not Marina more than all!" There was no longeranything in life that he willed to do but to win peace for her, according to her whim. 

"Stino!" he shrieked, with a voice louder than the clang of the rudeiron bell whose rope had broken in his impetuous hand. 

"Light me a fire in the brazier, and burn me this rubbish!" he commandedof the foreman who entered, aghast at the imperious summons, and yetmore amazed at the destruction of those precious pages over which hismaster had spent days of brooding; but he ventured no protest. 

"And here, " said Girolamo, with a look of relief, as the last papershrivelled and curled into smoke, "are the keys of these cabinets--thouknowest their contents, and that they are precious. And here shalt thouremain, as master, until my return--keeping all in order, as thouknowest how, and loyally serving the interest of the stabilimento. Allmoneys which I may send for thou shalt instantly remit by trustymessenger. "

"How long doth the Master remain away?"

"So long as it may please the Lady Marina, who hath need of change. Andif I return not, " Girolamo resumed, after a moment's pause which gavesolemnity to his words, "my will shall be found filed with theAvvogadori del Commun; and thou, Stino, shalt answer to the summons theywill send thee--if I come no more. "

"Master!" cried the faithful Stino, greatly troubled, for thesepreparations filled him with dread, and were strange indeed for so old aman who had never yet left Venice for a night. "Life is other than weknow it away from Venice; and the heart of us goes mourning for thesight and sound of the sea and the color of our skies!"

"Nay, Stino, I have said it, " his master answered, unmoved by hisimploring eyes. 

"When goest thou--that all may be ready?"

"Now; ere the dawn!" Girolamo cried with sudden resolution. "I would saymy Ave Maria in the chapel of the Lady Marina. Rouse the gondolier, andlift the curtain that I may see how soon the day cometh. "

"Master, dear Master, " said Stino tenderly, as he drew the heavydraperies aside. "Already the sun is high, and the household hath been, these many hours, awake. "

"So!" Girolamo answered with deep gravity, for the battle had beenlonger than he had dreamed, yet with his habitual control. "I knew notthe time--my thoughts held me. Stino, if I return not, may the saintsbless thee for all thou hast been to me since the Lady Marina hath dweltin the palazzo Giustiniani. And in my will thou art not forgotten. "

As Girolamo issued from his own portal, closely followed by Stino andthe other superintendents of the great stabilimento who were filled withforeboding at this sudden and surprising decision of their good master, several gondolas wearing the colors of the Giustiniani floated into thewaterway from the broad lagoon; and with them, like a flock of sea-birdsin their habits of gray and their cowls of white, came the sisters ofSan Donato, returning from that early chanted Mass at the palazzoGiustiniani which had been a dream of the Lady Marina's happier days. 

The young Senator had urged his boatmen to feverish speed, and his owngondola was far in advance of the train. He bounded from his bark themoment it neared the steps, and, rushing blindly toward the dwelling, encountered his father-in-law on the threshold. 

"She is here--Marina?" he questioned, half crazed with grief; and, forgetful of the usual courtesies, would have pushed him aside to enter. "I have come with her maidens and her child to take her home. Let me goto her!"

And, as Girolamo stood, dumb and dazed, "I beseech thee--conceal hernot!"

Looking into each other's faces for one anguished moment, they knew, without need of further speech, that she had gone from them both. 

Girolamo gave a great and bitter cry, "My son!" folding his arms aboutthe younger man in measureless grief and compassion. 

And when they could trust their footsteps they went desolately into thehouse together. 

 * * * * *

"Nay, " Girolamo had answered to every argument. "It is for thee toremain in Venice with her child, that the Signoria be not wroth with theCa' Giustiniani, and for me to seek and care for her--mayhap, if heavenbe merciful, to bring her to thee again! She cannot be far to seek. "

"In Padua!" cried Marcantonio, with sudden conviction. "They will sleepin Padua to-night. It _was_ the voice of the Lady Beata!"

XXX

"Art thou sure, Marina?"

"Ay, Piero, though it were death to me; and death were sweeter----"

Her hair lay like a wreath of snow across her forehead, from stress ofthe night's vigil, her lip trembled like a grieved child's, but in herexquisite face there was the grace of a spirit strong and tender. 

He helped her silently into the gondola and steered it carefully betweenthe pali which rose like a scattered sheaf, glowing with the colors ofthe Giustiniani, in the water before her palace. And thus, in the earlydawn--unattended, with the sadness of death in her pallid face--the ladyof the Giustiniani floated away from her beautiful home--away fromhappiness and love--into a future cheerless and dim as the dawn lightsthat were faintly tinging the sea. For the day was breaking, full ofgloom, under a sky of clouds, and the wind blew chill from across theLido. 

She sat with her gray mantle shrouding her face, and neither of themspoke, while the gondola, under Piero's deft guidance, quickly gainedthe steps of the Piazzetta and passed on to San Giorgio. Then shetouched his arm entreatingly. 

"Oh, let us wait one moment before we lose sight of the palazzo! MadreBeatissima, have them in thy keeping!"

She stretched out her hands unconsciously, with a gesture of petition, and her mantle slipped back, exposing her pallid, pain-stricken face andher whitened tresses. 

Piero was startled at the havoc the night had made, for he had seen heronly the day before, in answer to her summons, when she had been farmore like herself. 

"Santa Maria!" he exclaimed, crossing himself, and awkward under theunaccustomed sense of an overwhelming compassion. "The Holy Mother mustshrive me for breaking my vow, for if San Marco and San Teodoro wouldgive me a place between them before the matins ring again--mistaking mefor a traitor--I cannot take thee from Venice. We will return, " andalready the gondola was yielding to his stroke. "Let Marcantonio bringthee himself to Rome. "

"Piero, thou hast sworn to me! Thou shalt abide by thy promise!" shecried, seizing the oar in her trembling hand. 

"Ay, Marina, I have sworn to thee, " he answered, with slow pauses, "andby our Holy Mother of San Giorgio, I will serve thee like a saint inheaven. Yet I would thou wert in thy home again--already thou hastbroken thy heart for love of it. "

The gondolas of the people were gathering about the steps of thepalaces, bringing their burdens for the day's ongoings in thoseluxurious homes; the bells were calling to early Mass; the stir of lifewas beginning in the city; soon, in her own palace, her little one wouldwake, and Marco--She stood with straining eyes, yearning for the chanceof a face in her palace window--the bare last chance of another sight ofhis dear face. She did not know that Piero was watchingher--compassionate and comprehending--while she was struggling tooutlive the agony for the very love's sake which made it so keen. 

It was the only sweetness left in life for her, that this cruel partingwas yet for Marco's sake; that she might still plead with the HolyFather for this desperate need of which Marco seemed unconscious--since, in a vision never to be forgotten, the blessed Madre of San Donato hadconfided this mission to her. She could bear everything to win such ablessing for her beloved ones, only she must reach Rome--surely theMadre Beatissima would let her live to reach the Holy City!

The tide was brimming the canals, rising over the water steps; thegrowing light gleamed coldly on the polished marbles of her palace, burnishing the rich gold fretwork of frieze and tracery--but not anyface of any dear one responded to her hungry longing, watching for herin the deep spaces of the windows, in token of the love from which shewas fleeing. 

This also--this last longing--she must surrender!

Her white face grew brave again; she sat down and drew her veil--theample _fazzuolo_ of the Muranese--more closely about her. "I am ready, "she said, and turned her face resolutely forward. 

As they rounded San Giorgio, turning into the broad Giudecca, a shoal oflittle boats came over the water from Murano. 

"They are the nuns of San Donato!" she said in amazement, and drawingher veil closer. "Piero, canst thou not ask their whither?"

It was so strange, on this morning of all others, to see them turn inthe direction of Ca' Giustiniani; there came a vision of her chapel, which her maidens were decking--of the dear altar, at which she shouldkneel no more--and she held her breath to hear the answer. 

"Will the most Reverend Mother bless the boat of a gondolier of thepeople; and his sister, who hath been ill and craveth the morning air?"Piero, who had discarded every emblem of his office, and wore only thesimple dress of the Nicolotti, put the question easily, without fear ofrecognition. "And there is no great trouble in the city which calleththese illustrious ladies so early from Murano?"

"Nay; but the Senator Giustiniani hath prayed us for a grace to hissweet lady, for the chapel hath been closed while she hath been too illfor service; and to-day it will be opened, dressed with flowers, andwe--because she loveth greatly our Madonna of San Donato and hath shownbounty, with munificent gifts, to all the parish--will chant the matinsin her oratory. "

They gave the benediction and passed. 

While Marcantonio, with his tender thought for Marina fresh in hisheart, was waking to find only her note of farewell. 

"Only because I love thee, Marco mio, I have the strength to leave thee. And it is the Madonna who hath called me. Forgive, and forget not thysad Marina. "

"Marina--" Piero began awkwardly, for argument was not his forte, andMarina had always conquered him. "'Chi troppo abbraccia nulla stringe, 'one gains nothing who grasps too much. Thou wast ever one for duty, andif the Senator Marcantonio will not take thee to Rome----"

"No, Piero, he cannot; he is one of the rulers of Venice. "

"Thou, then--his wife----"

How could he venture to counsel her, of whose will and wisdom he hadalways stood in awe? It seemed to Piero that he had already delivered anoration; yet he felt that there was more to say, but his thoughts grewconfused in seeking for expression, and it was a relief to him tocommunicate his uncertainty to the motion of his gondola. 

The unsteady movement said more to her than words, for Piero was anunfailing stroke. 

"It is the men only of whom the Republic hath need, " she explained, unflinchingly; "but for the women there is no conflict of duty--the HolyChurch is first. 'Prayers for the women and deeds for the men'--thouhast seen it written. "

"And thy father?" Piero questioned, unconvinced, recalling the interviewof a few hours before. 

A quick, tender light flashed and passed in her eyes; a ray of colortrembled on her cheek. "I shall grieve him, " she said, "but he willforgive, for ever hath he bidden me choose the right. " Her voice brokeand she was silent, while she sought for some token in the folds of herrobe. "Thou wilt take him this when thou returnest, that he may know Ihold him dear. "

"Marina!" he pleaded, growing eloquent, with a last desperate effort, "thou wast ever an angel to the Zuanino--thou canst not leave thine ownbimbo!"

She did not answer immediately, but she clasped and unclasped her handspassionately. "He is safe, " she said at last, very low and strugglingfor control. "He hath the blessing of the Holy Father, given when itmight avail; and the little ones are ever in the care of the BlessedMother. It is not for my baby that I needs must go--but for Marco and myfather, and for Venice. Santissima Maria, because thou sendest me, shaltthou not grant the strength!"

There was a silence between them while they floated on, for Piero hadmany things to think of. He was accustomed to accomplish whatever heundertook, for he was not a man to fail from lack of resource, nor to beovercome by fears and scruples. By means of his passes and his favorwith the government he could reach the borders of the Venetian dominionswithout suspicion, from whence he would escort Marina to the nearestconvent and place her in safety with the Mother Superior, to whom hewould confide the story of her distinguished guest and secure for herthe treatment due to a Venetian princess; which, under thecircumstances, would be an easy matter, as no member of a noble Venetianhouse espousing the side of Rome would be met with any but the mostflattering reception. To provide Marina with companionship, Piero hadconfided her intended flight to the Lady Beata Tagliapietra, being sureof her devotion; and she would be waiting for them at Padua with twotrusted gondoliers and whatever might be needful from the wardrobe ofthe Lady of the Giustiniani. The fact that he had broken his promise ofsecrecy did not trouble him, since it was in Marina's service, whichmade the action honorable; and were it not so, the little perjury waswell atoned for by a keg of oil anonymously sent to the traghetto of SanNicolò è San Raffaele, "pel luminar al Madonna";[8] and Piero had muchfaith in anonymous gifts, for confessions were not always convenient foran officer of his dignity. But it was perhaps too much to expect thatthese poor little traghetto lamps should be more than dimly luminous, since the oil was so largely provided by fines for delinquencies!

 [8] To light the Madonna. 

With an easy conscience, also, he had helped himself to the requisitefunds for their journey, amply estimated, from the treasury of theNicolotti, which was in his keeping; and his reasoning savored ofVenetian subtlety, with a hint of his toso training. Had not the Lady ofthe Giustiniani offered to guarantee the funds necessary for theassessments of the state, when Piero, doubtful of their resources, wouldhave declined the position of gastaldo grande, cumbered as it was withthe uncomfortable requirement that the chief should be personallyresponsible for all dues and taxes levied upon the traghetti? Piero wasnot the first gastaldo who had wished to escape an honor that weighed soheavily, and a very serious penalty was already decreed for suchcontempt of office by that tribunal tireless in vigilance. 

So, without compunction, Piero had taken the needful, sure that when hereturned Marina's husband or her father would repay it. 

_Could_ he return--after helping a patrician to escape from Venice intothe heart of the country with which the Republic was at war? It lookeddoubtful even to Piero, with his indomitable temperament, but he wastedno sentiment upon this question; for if he might not return there wereother countries in which a man could live. Or, should he be pursued andlighted upon by the far-seeing eye of the Ten, he could die but once andget into trouble no more! He crossed himself decorously as he dismissedthe matter; but it was not an event that he could change by pondering. 

There was another question that interested him more keenly at thismoment; when Messer Girolamo should know that his daughter was not inVenice, could he fail to comprehend the hint he had given a few hoursbefore, and would he not follow them to Rome, as Piero devoutly hoped, for he wished to leave Marina in her father's care. It was not easy topredict what Messer Girolamo might do--the case had been too doubtfulfor a more explicit confession, and Piero had been wise in hisgeneration. 

He turned now to Marina with the question: "If thou hadst told thyfather of thy wish mayhap he might have come with thee?"

She shook her head sadly and made no answer, but after awhile she said, "He is like the others. They cannot understand the need, for to them theMadonna hath not revealed the desperate state of Venice. "

"Yet thou knowest, Marina, that already the great cardinal--but latelycome from France--hath started for Rome to make up this quarrel?"

"That is what the Senate will not understand!" she cried, with flashingeyes. "The Holy Father will have submission and penance, in place ofembassies and pomp. One must go to him quite simply, from the people, saying, 'We have sinned; have mercy upon Venice!' Piero, thou knowestthat awful vision of the Tintoret? It is Venice that he hath painted inher doom--the great floods bursting in upon her--all the agony and theanguish and the desolation of God's wrath! Santa Maria! I cannot bearit!" She closed her eyes, shuddering and sick with terror. 

"It was the way with Jacopo, " said Pietro irreverently. "He was full offreaks, and some demon hath tormented him. He was a man like others--notone for a revelation. "

"Hush, Piero!" she implored; "it breaks my heart! This also may becounted against Venice, for it is the Holy Madonna who hath granted methe vision. "

If Piero was silent he was only restrained by deference to Marina frominvoking the aid of every saint in the calendar, in copious malediction, on this miserable Jacopo who had so increased the trouble in Marina'seyes--since women had such foolish faith in pictures. 

"Jacopo Robusti, posing for a seer, and foretelling the end of theworld, like a prophet or a saint! _Goffone_!"[9] Piero was paddlingfuriously. "Jacopo, of the Fondamenta del Mori--not better thanothers--with that boastful sentence blazoned on his door!--'The coloringof Titian, with the drawing of Angelo!'"

 [9] Great fool!

But he forgot even his resentment against Jacopo in his anxiety as hewatched Marina, asking himself if it would be possible for her to prayherself back into healthful life again, even in the dominions of theHoly Father; for he realized that nothing could help her but this onething on which her heart was set--while he was yet, if possible, moreutterly without sympathy for the fear that moved her than her father orMarcantonio had been. But if the one woman in Venice had but one desire, however desperate and incomprehensible, --"_Basta_! It is enough, " saidPiero to himself, --she should not die with it unfulfilled, if he couldcompass it. 

Yet, at the thought of death his heart sank. "It was the Madonna whichthou beheldest in thy vision--not the cross?" he asked her quickly, making the fateful sign as he spoke, to avert this dread presage ofdeath, and afraid of her answer; for Marina was failing before his eyes, and doubtless, in her vision, there had been some apparition of a cross;and even the less devout among the gondoliers were still dominated bysome of the superstitions which gave a picturesque color to the habitsof the people. 

But she, too earnest in her faith to take any note of a less seriousmood, answered simply:

"It was the very Madonna herself, as thou knowest her in San Donato, whocame to me in the palazzo one night when I slept not, and gave me themission to save Venice, --scarce able to speak for her great sadness, and the tears dropping, as thou knowest her in San Donato, --commandingme to go before the Holy Father and pray for mercy to Venice. She it waswho told me that our prayers pass not up beyond the clouds which hangabove a city under doom of interdict. Oh, Piero, hasten; for my strengthis little, and Rome is far!"

When the Lady of the Giustiniani had sent for Piero to meet her in SantaMaria dell' Orto, to ask him to manage her escape to Rome, it had notbeen possible to refuse her; all his attempts at reasoning were in vain. "I must go, " she said, with that invincible persistence which he nevercould combat. "If thou wilt not help me, I go alone. " She was kneelingbefore the terrible "Judgment" of the Tintoret, and the face she hadlifted to him in appeal was white with agonized comprehension. 

The journey had been long and wearisome; all day they had been slowlytoiling against the tide; and long since Piero had summoned to his aid atrusted gondolier who had been ordered to follow them at a littledistance, and who, at a sign from the gastaldo, had silently left hisbark to drift and taken his place at the other end of the gondola inwhich the fugitives were making their way to Padua. 

They had passed the domain of the Laguna Morta, weird andhalf-forbidding, with tangles of sea-plants and upspringing wild fowlcalling to each other with hoarse cries across the marshes--with armiesof water beetles zigzagging in the shallows, and crabs and lizardscrawling upon the scattered sand heaps among the coarse sea-grasses, while small fish brought unexpected dimples to the deeper pools that laybetween. And the mingled odor of waters fresh and salt was broken into abreath now pungent and pleasant, now almost noisome, as the light breezestirred the shallows of this strange domain which was neither land norsea. Yet even here the pale sea-holly and the evening primrose maderedeeming spots of beauty, with their faint hues of violet and yellow;and a distant water-meadow shimmered like the sea, with the tender blueof the spreading lavender. 

They had passed Fusina, and the lagoon lay silvery, like a trail ofmoonlight behind them--Venice in the distance, opalesque, radiant, acity of dreams. The clouds above them, beautiful with changing sunsetlights, were no longer mirrored on a still lagoon, but mottled thebroken surfaces of the river with hues of bronze and purple, between theleaves of the creeping water-plants which clogged the movement of theoars; for they had exchanged the liquid azure pavement of their "CittàNobilissima" for the brown tide of the Brenta. On the river's brink therushes were starred with lilies and iris and ranunculus, and thefragrance of sheeted flowers from the water-meadows came to them freshand delicious, mingled with the salt breath of the sea, whileswallows--dusky, violet-winged--circled about their bows, teasing theirprogress with mystic eliptical flight--like persistent problemsperpetually recurring, yet to be solved by fate alone. 

It was the hour of the Ave Maria, and Marina roused herself from her sadreverie. The clouds piled themselves in luminous masses and driftedinto the hollows of the wonderful Euganean hills, and a crimson sunsettinged peaks and clouds with glory, as Padua with its low arcadedstreets, and San Antonio--cousin to San Marco in minarets and Easternsplendor--and the Lion of Saint Mark upon his lofty column, closed thevista of their weary day. The chimes of Venice were too far for sound, but from every campanile of this quaint city the vesper bells, solemnand sweet, pealed forth their call to prayer--as if no threat of Rome'sdispleasure made a discord in their harmony. 

XXXI

Piero had watched all night before the little inn of the "Buon Pesce, "impatient to meet and conquer his fate, while above, in an upper room, the ladies Marina and Beata tried to sleep; but before the dawn theywere off again, down by the way of the brown, rolling river, taking theweary length to Brondolo and the sea. 

There were two gondolas now, and the men in each pulled as if the prizeof a great regatta awaited them--Nicolotti against Castellani--andsilently, saving voice and strength for a great need. 

It might have seemed a pleasure party, save for the stress of theirspeed, as they swept by the groves of poplar and catalpa, which borderedthe broad flood, to the sound of the waters only and the song of thebirds in the wood; water-lilies floated in the pools along the shore;currents of fragrance were blown out to them on wandering winds; and inthe felze, as they were nearing Brondolo, Marina and the Lady Beata, soothed by the gliding motion and the monotonous plash of the oars intothe needed sleep which the night had failed to bring them, were unawareof the colloquy between Piero and his gondolier. 

"Antonio!" Piero called cautiously to the man who was rowing behind thefelze, "I have somewhat to say to thee; are there those within thyvision who may hear our speech?"

"Padrone, no; but the time is short for speaking much, for we reach thelock with another turn of the Brenta. "

"May the blessed San Nicolò send sunshine to dazzle the jewels in theeyes of Messer San Marco till we are safe beyond it and out ofChioggia!" Piero exclaimed fervently. "And thou, Antonio, swear me againthy faith--or swear it not, as thou wilt. But thou shalt choose thismoment whom thou wilt serve; and it shall go ill with thee if thou keepnot thy troth. "

"By San Marco and San Teodoro, " Antonio responded readily, crossinghimself devoutly as he spoke, "I swear to do thy bidding, MesserGastaldo. "

"And thou wilt die for the people against the nobles if need should be?"

"If thou leadest, Gastaldo Grande. "

"Hast thou a pouch beneath thy stiletto where thou mayest defend withthy life what I shall give thee?"

Antonio displayed it silently. 

"This for the need of the cause in thy hand, " said Piero, passing him apurse of gold. "But gold is worthless to this token which shall win theethe hearing of the bancali, and the aid of every loyal son of SanNicolò, and shall be proof that thou bearest my orders and my trust. "

The trust was great--the bancali were the governing board of thetraghetti. 

Antonio unfastened his doublet and secured the precious token under hisbelt. 

"Command then, caro padrone. "

"Slacken thy pace, for this may be our last speech together. Are thosewho follow true as thou?"

"Messer Gastaldo, " Antonio answered with reluctance, "by signs which bebut trifles to relate, --by a word dropped in Padua, and not for mineear, --one of them--I know not which--hath, perchance, affair with amaster mightier than thou. " He made the usual gesture which indicatedthe Three of that terrible Inquisition whose name was better leftunsaid--a sign much used in Venice where the very walls had ears. 

It was a blow to Piero, but he wasted no words. 

"They then--both--are apart from this and all my counsel. It shall befor thee alone, Antonio. "

"So safer, Messer Gastaldo. I listen--and forget, save as it shall servethee. "

"First, then, Antonio; I have sworn to escort the Lady of theGiustiniani in safety to Rome, from which naught shall keep me--save ifthe Ten have other plans, the Madonna doth forgive the broken vow!"

It was a strange admission from a man stalwart and fearless like Piero, but he made it without shame, as a soldier acquiescing in destiny. 

"Santissima Maria!" Antonio ejaculated with unusual fervor and crossinghimself in full realization of the meaning. 

"At Brondolo a brig is waiting--orange and yellow of sail, device of ablazing sun; a hunchback, with doublet of orange above the mast forluck, and a fine figure of a _gobbo_ upon the deck--a livinghunchback--by which thou shalt know it for mine, and bound to my orderwhether it come by me or by my token. If we reach and board her it shallbe well--and Rome, so will it heaven, before us all! But if the dreadedones are on the search and overtake us----"

Again the sign. 

The tragedy of the situation was in his face as he looked steadily atAntonio, who did not flinch. 

"Thy duty, then, Antonio, shall lie elsewhere. Thou must escape, unseen, while they lay hands upon the lady and me, whom first they will securebefore they give thee a thought. "

Antonio instantly touched his stiletto, and looked his question with afearless glance. 

"Nay, " said the gastaldo scornfully, and drawing a line quickly abouthis own throat. "Thou wilt serve me better with thy head in its place. Thou shalt return to Venice--by Fusina or Brondolo, as thy wit shallserve thee--leaving the precious gondolieri to prove whether theirsilken sashes be badges of men or traitors! Art thou listening?"

"Command me, padrone!"

"Within two days, if I be free, the bancali shall have news of me. Listen well, Antonio, "--again the hand and eyes went up with the dreadedunmistakable sign, --"if thou seest THEM seize me before thou takestleave, wait no longer than to plan with the bancali to come and demandmy release. Thou shalt tell the bancali that I sent thee; thou shalttell them there are affairs of moment for the Nicolotti which shall gohard for the traghetti if I be not there to work them--Art listening, Antonio?" he questioned feverishly. 

Antonio's eyes were fastened upon his. "Padrone, yes!" he answeredbreathlessly. 

"With my token thou canst command the loyalty of every Nicolotto--is itthine oar that made that rustle?--and perchance, if there were a risingof the traghetti to demand aught of the Signoria--come nearer, Antonio!--the Castellani also, if they willed to join with theirtraghetti in asking for justice--would not serve under my token the lessheartily for the word, confided low to their bancali--dostunderstand?--_that if their taxes and their fines oppress them_, thesealso, I being free, will pay this year to the maledetto Avvogadoro delCommun. "

Antonio gravely bowed his head in assent. 

"This at thy discretion--thou understandest, Antonio--and so that noviolence come from the massing of the people, but only the proof of itswill and of the numbers who make the demand. Only--if it be not granted, they shall make a stand at the traghetti and _fight_----"

"Padrone, yes!"

"For--thou dost mark me, Antonio?--this Lady of the Giustiniani hathbeen a saint among the people; she hath given them much in gifts--shehath given almost her life in prayers and penances, that heaven mayavert its wrath from Venice, which she in truth believeth the HolyFather--may the saints make him suffer for it!--hath brought upon thepeople by his curse--may heaven forbid! And she, being now noble, hathpreferred the cause of the _people_ to the cause of the _nobles_, andbringeth upon her the displeasure of the Signoria by her flight toRome. For--see it well, Antonio!--if the Senate hold the Lady of theGiustiniani for fault in this, "--Piero paused and uttered the last wordswith a slow, mysterious emphasis, while Antonio listened with anintensity that missed no shading of meaning, --"_it will be the cause ofthe people against the nobles_. "

"If they harm her not, " he resumed in his usual tone, after a moment'spause, "my fate shall be avenged in the judgment and command of thebancali of the Nicolotti only. They shall not risk the people's good forthe poor life of one leader!"

"Padrone!" Antonio cried, with flashing eyes. "Commandi altro?" ("Hastthou other commands?")

"None, save that if I return not--and not otherwise--thou shalt seekwith my token the Master Girolamo Magagnati; thou shalt tell him of thismy confidence, holding nothing back; and thou shalt pray him, of hishonor, to discharge the debt which may be found lacking in the treasuryof the Nicolotti, --since the moneys have been taken for the need of thelady on her journey, --the which, if I return, I have means, and more, torepay. "

The two men grasped hands and looked into each other's eyes for a briefrecording moment, having each touched that _best_ in the other which wasnot shown to all men, and so begotten trust each in each. 

"By the Holy Madonna and San Nicolò, I will not fail!" Antonio promised, and in a moment had seized his oar again and was springing forward onthe bridge of his gondola, as if his thoughts were light and rhythmic ashis motions. 

They sped on with a few swift, silent strokes--then, "Brondolo!" hecried brightly; but a sudden desperate steadying of resolution was feltin the fierce stroke which sent the gondola forward with a jerk. 

The fishing-skiffs of Chioggia fluttered like gaudy butterflies beforethem, dipping their wings of orange and crimson and every conceivablesunset tint to catch the breeze; and the air was suddenly vibrant withsounds of traffic and busy life. Men called to each other with song andjest from heavily laden barks, while they waited the hour of sailing; orlay at ease on the top of their wares, smoking luxurious draughts ofcontent from their comrade pipes, --lords of their craft, though theircouch was but a pile of cabbages or market produce, --exchanging somewhimsical comment upon the affairs of busier neighbors which brimmedthese frequent hours of _dolce far niente_ with unflagging interest. 

And there, among the lighter shipping, was the brig bound to the orderof the gastaldo grande, with the yellow sails and device of the risingsun--with the gobbo in orange doublet on the masthead for good luck, andthe gobbo on the deck to make it sure. Piero turned and looked for it, as they passed the lock. And there too----

"_Corpo di San Marco_!" ejaculated Antonio under his breath, for hestood higher than Piero upon the bridge of the gondola and facingforward. 

There, full in sight, and riding proudly at anchor, the beautiful curvesof her swan-like prows made cannon proof with plates of shiningsteel, --and below, in lieu of figurehead to promise victory, thoseletters of dread omen, C. D. X. , --with thirty oars-men from the arsenalof Venice, to ensure her speed, each ready at his oar-lock to wield hisoar, with a band of marksmen trained to finest tempered arms to quellthe resistance which no Venetian would dare offer with those letters onthe prow; the gold and scarlet banner of San Marco, for good fortune, ather masthead; the wind swelling her impatient sail, as the curb butfrets the steed--_the galley of the Ten was not waiting without apurpose_!

The shock of the boats as they passed through the lock had roused thesleepers rudely, and Piero had time but for a swift glance of command toAntonio, bidding him escape, when a gondola bearing the ducal colorsfloated out from the sea of small waiting craft and saluted themcourteously. The dignified signor who addressed them wore the violetrobe and stole of a secretary of the Doge, and his face was the face ofthat secretary in whose silken hand the gastaldo's had lain prisonedwhen he took the oath of office!

Resistance was impossible. 

"Messer Gastaldo, " said the secretary suavely, "it hath pleased thosewho have ever the welfare of Venice at heart to provide for the mostnoble Lady of the Giustiniani an escort which better fitteth her rankthan the size of thy _barchetta_ permitteth, and a dwelling morehonorable than the 'Osteria del Buon Pesce, ' where, in company of theLady Beata Tagliapietra, she hath passed the night. "

The secretary paused and placidly noted the effect of his words uponPiero, who could have gnashed his teeth for anger at those talking wallsof Venice which had betrayed him--so cautiously had he told his secretto the Lady Beata only, in that short moonlight stroll!

At a sign from the secretary a second gondola, wearing the ducal liveryand filled with the gorgeous costumes of the palace guards, came outfrom the floating mass and approached the gondola of the people, wherethe Lady Marina sat trembling like a frightened fawn. 

There was a struggle among the lesser craft to draw closer to thisdramatic centre; they jostled each other unceremoniously; a splash, likea falling oar, was heard, but scarce noted in the absorbing interest ofthe moment; only a bare-legged boy jumped off from a tiny fishing-skiffnear which the oar had floated, and swam with it to to the gondola fromwhich it had fallen--since it was this boat which was making thecarnival for them! Piero, alone, had slightly turned his head and notedthat no one now stood on the _ponte piede_ behind the felze of hisgondola. 

"The galley waits to receive the noble ladies to whom I am commissioned_by those who have sent me_ to offer my respectful homage, " said thesecretary, bowing low before the felze. "The noble ladies will proceedthither in the ducal gondola which attends them. And thou, MesserGastaldo, wilt graciously aid me in their escort--since, verily, theyowe much to thy chivalry. "

It was a pleasant scene for the onlookers. 

But the Lady Marina sat motionless, and gave neither word nor sign inresponse to the invitation of the ducal secretary. 

"Shall the pleasure of the lady of this noble house not be consulted?"Piero questioned, struggling to cover his defiance under a tone ofdeference. 

But his answer was only in the secretary's eyes, --smiling, imperious, --more defiant than his own impotent will; and in the courtlywaiting attitude, which had not changed, and which seemed unbearably tolengthen out the passing seconds. 

The Lady Beata, winding compassionate arms around her friend, had raisedher veil, whispering words of tenderness. 

But there was no recognition in the glance that met hers--only theimmeasurable pathos of a hopeless surrender; the fervent passion ofMarina's will and faith had made all things seem possible ofachievement, though Venice was against her, for had not the mission beengiven her in a vision by the Holy Madonna of San Donato--Mother ofSorrows--and was not the issue sure? And yielding all thought of selfshe had braced every faculty to accomplish the holy task of which shealone felt the urgency. But the overtaxed heart and brain could endureno longer thwarting; their activity and unquestioning purpose had beenher only power; and the moment she ceased to struggle will and reasonfled together. 

Pitifully acquiescent, she went with them unresisting. 

 * * * * *

A haze that was not luminous hung in the sky; night was creeping onwithout a sunset, as they battled their way up the Giudecca against thecurrent which rushed like a boiling torrent around San Giorgio--the bluecalm of the waters turned to a frenzied, foam-lashed green. 

The men rowed fast, with tight-furled sail, but the storm came faster;ranks of threatening clouds were hurrying from the east, gathering likearmies of vengeful spirits, darker, closer about them, shutting offevery breath of air; an oppression, throbbing with nameless fears, wasupon them--a hush, as if life had ceased; then the scorching, witheringtorment of a fierce sirocco, and the moan of the wind, like a soul inpain. 

Marina grew faint and wide-eyed for terror, but they could not sootheher by word or touch; she sat with clasped hands, gasping for breath, listening to the low, long boom on the shores of the Lido, like muffledthunder, ceaselessly recurring--the terrible noise of the great wavesbeating against the sea-walls--beating and breaking in fury, tossingtheir spray high in air and whirling it in clouds, like rain mists, faracross the lagoon. Would the barriers stand--or yield and leave them totheir doom? Were the great waters of the Adriatic uprising in vengeanceto overwhelm this city in her sin? Boom upon boom sounded through allthe voices of the storm. Santa Maria! was it this that the Tintorettohad foretold!

A dazzling, frenzied flash of light, --a vast peal of thunder that waslike the wrath of a mighty, offended God, --then darkness, and a torrentof rain--the waters in the shifting path of the wind leaping up to meetthe waters from the sky!

The vesper bells of Venice came sobbing through the storm, tossed andbroken by the tornado into a wraith of a dirge; and now, by somefantastic freak of nature, as the winds rose higher, the iron tonguesfrom every campanile--for a brief moment of horror--came wrangling anddiscordant, as if tortured by some demon of despair. 

 "_Ave Maria, Gratia plena_!"

the women cried together, falling on their knees, while the men toiledand struggled to hold the invincible galley of the Ten outside thewhirling path of the storm--advancing and retreating at the will of theelements, against which their own splendid, human strength was like thefeeble, untaught effort of a helpless infant. 

"_Mater Dei, Ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortisnostrae_. "

The words rose in a wail between the gusts. 

For measureless moments, mighty as hours, they battled between San Marcoand San Giorgio, tossed to and fro--now nearer the haven of the greatwhite dome, now--as a lightning flash unveiled San Marco--near enough tosee a cloud of frightened doves go whirling over the flood which sweptthe Piazza from end to end and poured out under the great gates of theDucal Palace into the lagoon. 

"_Summa Parens clementia--nocte surgentes_----"

XXXII

A Day momentous for Venice--or was it Rome?--had come and passed; itchronicled the right of the Crown to make its own laws within its ownrealm, without reference to ecclesiastical claims which had hithertobeen found hampering; it defined the limits of Church and State, as noprotest had hitherto done. 

But Venice was calm in her triumph as she had been unmoved in disaster, and would not reflect the jubilant tone of the cardinal when he hadreturned from Rome empowered to withdraw the censures upon the termsstipulated by the Republic. 

Yet, at this latest moment, the cardinal mediator, from lack ofdiscretion, had come near to failure; for the terms being less favorablethan he had desired to obtain for the Holy Father, he could not resistattempting to win some little further grace before pronouncing the finalword, when the Signoria, weary of temporizing, told him plainly that hisHoliness must come at once to a decision, or Venice would forget thatshe had so far yielded as to listen to any negotiations. 

There was no pageant at the close of this long drama of which theprinces of Europe had been interested spectators. Venice sat smiling andunruffled under her April skies when the ducal secretary escorted thetwo famous prisoners from the dungeons of the Palace to the residence ofthe French ambassador, and there, _without prejudice to the Republic'sright of jurisdiction over criminal ecclesiastics_, explicitlystipulated, bestowed this gift--so fitting for the gratification of a"Most Christian Majesty"--upon the representative of France, who mustindeed have breathed more freely when this testimonial of favor, withits precious burden of nameless crimes, had been consigned by him to onewho waited as an appointee of the Pope. 

The Doge and the Signoria sat in their accustomed places in theirstately Assembly Chamber when the cardinal came with congratulationsupon the withdrawal of the interdict, and the words of the Serenissimo, as he gave the promised parchment, were few and dignified. 

"I thank the Lord our God that his Holiness hath assured himself of thepurity of our intentions and the sincerity of our deeds. "

And the writing of that parchment, sealed with the seal of Saint Mark, stood thus:

"Essendo state levate le Censure è restate parimente rivocato ilProtesto. " ("The censures having been taken off the protest remainsequally revoked. ")

It was whispered low that the cardinal, under his cape, made the sign ofthe cross and murmured a word of absolution. But if the Signoriasuspected his intention there was no movement of acquiescence; only, when the short ceremony of the passing of the document was completed, they observed the usual forms of courtesy with which the audience of soprincely an envoy is closed when his mission is accomplished. 

If Paul V had surrendered with reluctance his hope of a sumptuousceremony in San Pietro, where delegates of penitent Venetians shouldkneel in public and confess and be graciously absolved--if the Cardinaldi Gioiosa had indulged flattering visions of a procession of priestsand people to the patriarchal church in the Piazza, with paeans ofjoy-bells and shouts of gladness that Venice was again free to resumeher worship, and that her penitent people were pardoned sons of theChurch--he was doomed to disappointment. The cardinals of Spain andFrance, attended only by their households, celebrated Mass in the ducalchapel of San Marco; and the people came and went--as they did beforeand after, through that day and all the days since the interdict hadbeen pronounced, in this and all the churches of Venice--and scarcelyknew that their doom was lifted, as they had hardly realized that thecurse had ever penetrated from those distant doors of San Pietro to thesanctuary of San Marco!

But the world knew and never forgot how that stately court of Venice hadmet the thunder of the Vatican and lessened its power forever. 

The cause had been won in moderation and dignity upon a basis of civiljustice that was none the less accredited because the Teologo Consultorewho sat in chancelor's robes behind the throne was a zealous advocate ofthe primitive principles of Christianity, and defended, without fear ofobloquy or death, the right of the individual conscience to interpretfor itself the laws of right, --as founded upon the words ofChrist, --because the extraordinary keenness, fineness, and breadth ofhis masterly mind enabled him to conceive with unusual definiteness thelimits of civil and spiritual authority, and to ascribe the overgrowthof error upon the Church he loved to the misconception and weakness ofhuman nature. He did not place Venice, the superb, --with her pride andpomp and power and intellectual astuteness, with her faults andworldliness and her magnificent statesmanship, --against the _spiritual_kingdom of Christ's Church on earth and declare for Venice _against_ theChurch. 

But he weighed in the clear poise of his brain the Book of the DivineLaw--which none knew better than he--with the laws of the princes ofthis world--which also few knew better--and declared that _One_, lowlyand great, had defined the limits of the Church's jurisdiction when Hesaid, "My kingdom is not of this world. "

But in Rome the reasoning was not so simple, and threats of vengeancepursued this "terrible friar, " whose bold judgments had ruled thecouncils of rebellious Venice. 

But though peace was declared with Rome the labors of the Senate werescarcely lessened; there were still adjustments to be made which werenot whispered abroad--there were embassies to be dissolved andappointed, gifts to be voted, honors to be heaped upon the head of theman whose counsels had led to such results, and in whose person theSenate now united the three offices of the Counsellors to the Doge, making Fra Paolo sole Teologo Consultore. 

It was the first time in the history of the Republic that such honorshad been voted, for Venice was not wont to be over-generous inrecognition of individual service; and this friend of statesmen, scholars, and princes temporal and spiritual, preserved the greatness ofhis simplicity unspoiled in prosperity and power--as was possible onlyto a spirit ruled by inflexible principle and faith. 

When the Senate voted him a palace near San Marco he preferred hissimple quarters among his brethren of the Servi. When, in proof of theirappreciation, they doubled his salary and would have trebled itagain--"Nay, " said he, "it is but my duty that I have done. May thehonorable words of the Senate's recognition but hold before me thatwhich, by God's help, I may yet accomplish"; and he would take but somuch as he might bestow in charity and gifts to his convent, having forhimself no need nor tastes that were not met by the modest provision ofhis order. 

And when, having refused to go to Rome for reconciliation--being notpenitent--or for preferment, which would not come without penitence, FraPaolo still pursued, unmoved, the quiet tenor of his daily round, fromconvent to palace, without pause or tremor, in spite of continuedwarning;--"My life, " he said, "is in the hands of God. My duty hath heconfided to mine own effort. "

 * * * * *

The Lady Marina was a guest in the Ducal Palace, detained undersurveillance, yet treated with much honor; her friends might see her inthe presence of the ducal guards who watched within the doors of hersumptuous chambers, but she was not free to go to her own, who hadguarded her with such laxity that in striving to reach the court of theenemy she had imperiled the dignity of the Republic by her silentcensure. Marcantonio had trembled more when, the morning after thestorm, news had reached him that the fugitive was in the keeping of theSignoria, than if the message had announced her death. What might he notexpect of their jealousy!

But a ducal secretary had received him with courtesy and conducted himat once into the audience chamber of the Doge, who bade him send for hermaidens that she might be cared for tenderly, for her stay at the Palacewould be indefinite. It was a royal command, against which pleading orrebellion were alike useless. 

"Most Serene Prince!" cried Marcantonio in agony, "I beseech thee leaveme that gift which a gracious Senate once so generously bestowed! I havenever swerved in loyalty--though my heart was nigh to breaking that Imight not grant her prayer!"

But one in attendance spoke quickly; for the face of the good LeonardoDonato was full of compassion, and he might not be trusted to serve thehigher interests of the Republic. 

"It is of the clemency of the Serenissimo, " said that inflexible voice, "that the Lady Marina reaps not the penalty of her flight and of herdisloyalty to the State, since she hath sought to place her privatejudgment beyond the wisdom of the rulers of Venice. "

The figure stood motionless in the shadow of a column, muffled in a longblack mantle, a black beretta partially concealing the face. 

There was an icy inflection in the tones which sent a chill toMarcantonio's heart as he listened. One of the Chiefs of the Ten wasalways a member of the still more dreaded Inquisition, whose identitywas never known, and the passionless voice held a hint of indisputableauthority--was his suffering wife to rely upon the mercy of the mostpuissant member of this terrible commission!

"Take my life for hers!" he implored, so beside himself with grief andterror that he disclosed his fear for Marina; "and bid her return tocare for our little one. "

"Not so, " said the emotionless voice; "the Lady Marina hath disprovedher right to care for a noble of Venice. It would be to imperil hisloyalty to leave the child under his mother's influence. "

"My God!" cried Marcantonio bitterly; "take me to her and let us dietogether--if the Republic may grant us so much grace!"

Again the Doge would have spoken compassionate words, but the otherinterposed:

"The State hath little use for the lady's life--save in her keeping. Andshe herself, perchance, hath less. For so hath her strange whim wroughtupon her that she knoweth naught of that which passeth around her, andone face to her is like another. "

The young Senator turned from the cruel speaker to the Doge in muteappealing agony. The old man grasped his hand in a steadying clasp. 

"Let us go to her, " said Leonardo, very low, when he could command hisvoice. "She is like a lovely child--resisting nothing. It is someshock--it will pass. "

 * * * * *

And now there came a day when the proud heart of Venice was stirred toits core, for a messenger dashed breathless into the Council Chamber--anexcited, protesting throng of the populace surging in through the opendoor behind him. "Fra Paolo! Il caro Padre! Morto!"

"_Dead_!" They started to their feet with ready imprecations. Fra Paolo, who had left them an hour before, with the Signor Malipiero and hisdevoted secretary! They exchanged glances of terrible comprehension--thetriumph of Venice was avenged upon the faithful servant of the State!

The Consiglio broke up in confusion. 

"Eccellentissimi, " the messenger explained to the horror-strickenquestioners, "they were five, --rushing out from the dark of the conventwall against him when he came alone down the steps of the Ponte dellaPugna, --the villains held the others down. And Fra Paolo lay dead on theFondamenta--stabbed in many places, as if one would cut him in bits--andthe stiletto still in his forehead! And they sent me----"

"'Alone'? you ask me, Illustrissimi?--Santissima Vergine! the whole citypouring in to the cries of those that found him; and the murderers offbefore one could touch them, and never a guard near! They carried himinto the Servi. --And the people--furious--are storming the palazzo ofthe nuncio as I pass; and some one cries that the envoy is off to theLido, with his fine friends, who start for Rome. A thousand devils!--Maythe good San Nicolò send them to feed the fishes!"

The Senate, to testify its honor, grief, and sympathy for the belovedCounsellor, had instantly adjourned, and its members repaired in greatnumbers to the convent to make personal inquiries, returning to a newsession prolonged through the night; for Fra Paolo, who had fainted fromloss of blood on his pallet in the Servite cell, had recoveredconsciousness and hovered between life and death--his humble bedattended by the most famous physicians and surgeons whom the Republiccould summon to her aid. The secretaries, meanwhile, were busy inpreparing resolutions of affection by which to honor him in the sight ofthe Venetian people; letters of announcement to foreign courts, as if hehad been of the blood royal; proclamations of reward for the persons ofthe criminals, alive or dead, which, before the day had dawned, theSignori della Notte had affixed to the doors of San Marco, along theRialto, on the breast of Ser Robia, that all might read. And for meansof bringing the offenders to justice they plotted and schemed as nonebut Venetians could do. 

It was three days since the storm, and the gastaldo had not yet beenreleased, he also was simply detained, without ignominy or discomfort inrooms set apart for prisoners of State before they had been brought totrial; for the events of these days had been too absorbing to permit ofan examination of his case. And now, in the gray dawn which broke uponthat night of anxiety and excitement, alternating between hope and fearas frequent messengers, each guarded by a detachment of palace guards, appeared with fresh news from the convent, the weary senators strolledup and down in the great chambers opening on the sea façade of the DucalPalace discussing the event in a more desultory way--its meaning, itsdangers, the achievements of the great man who might, even now, bereceiving the viaticum in the convent of the Servi. 

He was first named with terms of endearment strange upon the lips ofthat stately assembly--"Il caro Padre, " "Teologo amato di Venezia"--yetthe guards had failed to seize those villains who lay in wait at thePonte della Pugna! The bridges and traghetti must be closelywatched. --Ah--the gastaldo grande!

"Hath one yet been named _Condottiere_ for this frontier service?"questioned one of the older senators, among a group of the moreimportant men who had detached themselves from the others and strolledout into the great loggia on the sea façade for a reviving breath of themorning air. "For such an employ there is none like Piero Salin fordaring and intrigue; and the assassins may linger long in hiding on theroute to Rome. "

And so they first remembered Piero in these crowded days and discussedhis fault with a degree of leniency that would have been foreign to thetraditions of Venice had he not been needed for important secretservice. 

Meanwhile, Fra Paolo was still the theme among the senators at large inthe Council Chamber. "Il miracolo del suo secolo, " they called him, asthey rehearsed the opinions of the learned men of their age in everyfield of science. 

"It cannot be from knowledge, acquired as all men learn, that he takeththis position in such varied sciences, " said the Senator Morosini; "fora life-time doth suffice to few men for such attainment in one field ashe hath reached in all. It must be that the marvel of his mind doth holdsome central truth which maketh all science cognate. "

"Else were he not 'friend and master' to Galileo of Padua. "

"And it is told that Acquapendente, who hath been summoned by theSignoria to bestow his skill, hath learned of him some matters which hetaught in the medical school of Bologna. The world hath not his equalfor learning. "

"By the blessed San Marco!" ejaculated one under his breath, who hadbeen idly leaning on the balustrade, as he crossed himself and lookedfurtively around to note whether he had been overheard. 

But the others of the group, keenly alive to danger, had instantlyjoined him. 

"Was this some new intrigue?" "Was the night not already full withhorror?" they questioned of each other, thrilled with dread andsuperstition. 

Dawn was growing over the water, and the gray and oily surface of thelagoon was closely dotted with gondolas, distinct and black in themorning twilight; they came sweeping on from San Nicolò andCastello--black and red, breast to breast--gathering impetus as theyneared the Piazzetta, in numbers which must have left every traghetto ofVenice deserted; Nicolotti and Castellani--_allies_, since they neverhad been friends! It was some intrigue of the people, or some favor theyhad come to ask--_to-day_, when the Senate might not spare one thoughtfor disorder among the masses!

Weary and overwrought, after their night of sorrowful labor, they lookedat each other in consternation. 

"It is their gastaldo whom they are come to seek, " a secretary of theTen confided by inspiration to his Chief, as an old man, wearing therobe of a bancalo, was escorted from the landing by a band of gondolierswith black and crimson sashes, who disappeared under the entrance to thepalace courtyard. 

"Let him be summoned and honorably discharged; he hath done no harm thatmay be compared with the disaffection of the traghetti. "

"Rather, let them receive him back, appointed by the Senate to honor, asCondottiere of the border forces"; a second Chief hastened to respond, for the moment was grave, "and the command will most excellently fit thegastaldo. "

"And for the Lady of the Giustiniani, it matters little--Rome orVenice, " said an old senator, compassionately, as he followed hiscolleagues into the Council Chamber. "She hath so spent herself ingrieving that she knoweth naught. For the Senator Marcantonio hathvainly sought to teach her that the interdict hath been lifted; yet eventhis she comprehendeth not. "

"We are come, your Excellencies, for news of our Gastaldo Grande, whosepresence is verily needful for the traghetti, " said the white-hairedbancalo, when an audience had been granted him. 

"How many of you have come as escort?" the secretary questionedcarelessly. 

"Eccellenza, we are enough, " the bancalo answered fearlessly, and with asignificant pause, "_to prove the will of the people--as well Nicolottias Castellani_. And to escort our Gastaldo Grande with honor, since ithath pleased your excellencies to receive him--_as a guest_--in theDucal Palace. "

He was the eldest of the officers of the traghetti, accustomed torespect, upheld by the united forces of the people; this man of thepeople and this mouthpiece of the nobles measured each other fearlesslyas they looked into each other's faces--each coolly choosing his phrasesto carry so much as the other might count wise. 

"It is well, " said the secretary of the Ten, after a brief privateconference with his Chiefs, "that ye are come in numbers to do himhonor. Since the Senate hath need of his brave service and hath namedPiero Salin, for exigencies of the Republic, Condottiere, with honorsand men of artillery to do him service. "

And so it chanced, that because of the stress of the time, Piero Salinfloated off in triumph to Murano, named General of the Border Forces, with secret orders from the Ten. 

XXXIII

The great bell in the tower of the arsenal told twelve of the day, andalready the broader waters near the rios which led to the highmachicolated walls surrounding this famous Venetian stronghold werecrowded with gondolas of the people and barges from the islands filledwith men, women, and children, jubilant with holiday speech andbrilliant in gala colors; for this was one of those perpetuallyrecurring festas which so endeared this City of the Sea to itspleasure-loving people. 

This splendid ceremony of inspection by the Doge was a day of annualtriumph, for nowhere in all the world was there such an arsenal, andnowhere such an army of workmen, --thirty-five thousand men trained tothe cunning from father to son in lifelong service, --with sailors, sixteen thousand more, who should presently make a brave review withinthose battlemented walls, to tickle the fancy of the Serenissimo and hisguests. For these pageants of Venice were not guiltless of timely hintsto the onlookers of the futility of opposition to a naval force so greatand so admirably controlled; and well might the Republic be proud of thefoundry, the docks, the galleys, which the Doge and the Signoria cameeach year in state to visit, with all the nobles of the MaggiorConsiglio and many of the high officials. 

This year it was to be a fête more magnificent than usual, for thehouseholds of the ambassadors were bidden to the banquet which wasprepared in the Great Hall of the arsenal--the attractions of which wereinvitingly rehearsed, as the speakers leaned across from gondola togondola, to exchange their pleasant bits of gossip with dramaticexaggerations. "And the gondolas of the ambassadors! Santa Maria! theSignori, 'i provveditori alle pompe' have nothing to say, for there is adispensation! the velvets and satins and golden fringes--it will be atrue glimpse of the _paradiso_!"

"And the great Signor medico, Acquapendente, will be made this dayCavalière of the Republic, since he hath had the wonderful fortune tosave the life of our Padre Maestro Paolo; for it is well known there waslittle hope of matins or vespers more for him, the night the _maledettibravi_ left the stiletto in his face!"

"And thou, Giuseppe!" cried a smiling mother from Mazzorbo, proudlyindicating her boy as an object of interest, and pushing him into a moreprominent position--"the bambino hath seen it with his own eyes, sincehe is prentice at the metal graver's shop of Messer Maffeo Olivieri onthe Rialto; thou, tell us, Giuseppe, of this great goblet of gravensilver which the Master Olivieri hath ready for the presentation, byorder of the Signoria. È bello, ah? _Bellissimo_! And the Lion of SanMarco on the crown of it--_è vero_ Giuseppe?--with wings--_magnifico_!And jewels of rubino in the eyes of it; and a tongue----"

"Cosi!" interposed Giuseppe, with dramatic effectiveness, thrusting outhis own with relish. "_Thus_!"

"Ma c'è altro!" cried a gondolier from Murano. "There is more yet! Forthe magnificent galley which the little one of the Ca' Giustiniani--hethat is grandson to our Messer Girolamo Magagnati--hath given to theRepublic will be floated out from the basin of the arsenal andchristened this day!"

The spirits of the light-hearted crowd effervesced in a jubilant cheer. 

"_I Giustiniani_!"

On every page of the history of Venice the name of the Giustiniani stoodbrilliantly forth, and the stained and tattered banners in the greathall of the arsenal were so many laurel leaves for this patrician house, keeping the memory of the brilliant victory of Lepanto green in thehearts of the Venetians. It was a Giustinian, "Gonfalonière, " _standardbearer_, who had brought the glorious news on his triumphant galley, thesolemn Lion of San Marco waving his banner above the drooping crescentof the Turk from every green wreathed mast. It was this Giustinian whohad been carried in triumph on the shoulders of the people, before theDoge and the Signoria--who had been the hero when that solemn Mass, inhonor of the victory, had been offered up in the ducal chapel--when theRialto and the Merceria, for the extravagant joy of Venice, were drapedin blue and scarlet and gold, bound laurel wreaths and decorated withthe art treasures of Titian and Giorgone. It was a name which the peoplewere accustomed to honor. "I Giustiniani!" they shouted. 

There was a sudden hush, for the bells of the Campanile of San Marcohad given the signal, and there was a great stir before the Piazza--atrain of gondolas was sweeping into line far down the Canal Grande; theguards on the watch-towers of the arsenal were full of animation; thegondolas of the orderlies were buzzing like bees about the barge of thegrand admiral, who awaited the coming of the Doge, in all hismagnificence of satin ceremonial robes. He was like a noble to-day, thisman of the people. _Viva San Marco_!

The moment was approaching; orderlies glided back and forth among theexcited people, prescribing their distance; the raft of small craftshifted its position and presently a salute was fired from all thecannon of the arsenal; the Doge, in his great State barge, was near. 

The people shouted themselves hoarse when the smoke cleared away andrevealed the splendid train of private barges from Venice; there werebanners of the Republic and streaming pennons of the nobles; thegondoliers wore the colors of their house, and were welcomed by thepeople on these days of pageant as a distinct addition to the glories ofthe festa--though on other days the barcarioli of the traghetti pouredout full vials of contempt upon their sashes of rose and silver and theblazonry of arms upon their silken sleeves. 

The gondolas and barges of the people drifted back again, close aboutthe train of magnates from Venice. 

"I Giustiniani, " they shouted; "il Marconino!"

There was a movement on one of the splendid barges bearing the colors ofthe Giustiniani; a little child was caught up and held for a momenthigh in the air; he waved his tiny hands gleefully--it was suchbeautiful play!

"It is the grandson of Messer Girolamo Magagnati, of the Stabilimenti!"they cried from the barges of Murano, surging nearer in the waterway. "He belongs to us--to the people!" for the story was well known, and thepeople of Venice were not less proud than the nobles who ruled them. "Viva Messer Magagnati!"

The group upon the deck parted and disclosed an old man with bowed headand faltering movements, supported by the young Senator Giustiniani, whogravely recognized their salute; but there was no answering smile uponhis face; and Girolamo Magagnati, who had proudly confronted thesenators in their Council Chamber when he had declined their proffer ofnobility, in this day of triumph scarcely raised his eyes. 

The mothers on the barges lifted their little ones in their arms andtaught them to call a name--"Il Marconino!" they ventured, in hesitant, treble tones. 

But now the splendid moment was near. The admiral, in his crimson robesof state, had mounted to his place on the Doge's barge, and all thefloating crowd had fallen into ordered position, in a hush of vibrantsuspense, as, with slow majesty and grace, one by one the galleys ofVenice came forth in procession from the great basin of the arsenal, sweeping round from the Punta della Motta into the lagoon, and passingthe Signoria with a salute. And now the great bell sounded again fromthe arsenal tower, and was answered from the Campanile of San Marco, and the suppressed excitement of the eager spectators burst forth incries of greeting to the _Marconino_--just set afloat--as she camegracefully around in front of the Doge's barge, full manned andsaluting, magnificently equipped, the colors of the Giustiniani wavingbelow the crimson banner of San Marco, with its regnant Lion, and on herprow the beautiful sculptured figure of a little child. 

"_Il Marconino! Il Marconino_!"

There was a brief moment of confusion from the coming and going ofbarges, --a short delay which brimmed their excitement to the feverpitch, --then the waters cleared again of their floating craft, and theSenator Marcantonio Giustiniani stepped forth on the deck to christenthe gift of his child. 

The people looked, and would have shouted--but forebore--gazingawestruck. 

As he stood, firmly planted upon the prow, the crimson drapery of hissenator's robe parted and disclosed the firm young vigor of his limbs, in their silken hose, and his very attitude showed power. But he worethe face of a young Greek god who had lightly dreamed that he couldfashion Life out of grace and sunshine, and had waked to carve Enduranceout of Agony. 

The child, held high in his arms, was radiant in the sunshine, itsrosebud mouth parting over pearly teeth in dimpling glee, the breezelifting the light rings of hair that caressed his soft, round throat, the hands waving in childish ecstasy and grace. As they stood, just overthe beautiful bust of the "Marconino" which Vittorio had carved upon theprow, child and father were an embodiment of the play of the crestedfoam over the deep trouble of the waves beneath. 

"Was it thus that the nobles took their triumphs?" the people questionedlow of each other. "And where was the Lady Marina, the daughter ofMesser Magagnati--_their_ lady, who had been good to the people?"

"She was there--within, " some one answered, "she was not strong--thesalutes were too much for her. She was waiting within, with hermaidens. "

"To miss such a beautiful festa! Santa Maria!"--the strong peasantmothers, clasping their infants in their arms, with prattling, barefooted children clinging to their mantles--so glad for this glimpseof holiday--looked again at the beautiful, stern face of this father whohad youth and gifts and wealth, his seat in the Consiglio, his boy inhis arms--but no smile for the people pressing around him ready to shouthis name, and they crossed themselves with a nameless yearning anddread. 

But the nobles, with more understanding, looked upon him and forgottheir jealousy. 

For the Lady Marina was within, waiting with her maidens in a privatechamber of the arsenal until the hour of the banquet, when her presencehad been required by the Signoria. Only so much had her father--thegiver of the gift--and Marcantonio, on this day of honor to hisname--been able to obtain of the imperious Republic. There were rumorsafloat, questions were asked, and the body of nobles must bear witnessto the clemency of the State, who could be gracious in forgiving. If theLady of the Giustiniani might not have the custody of her child, it wasnot that because of her transgressions they would refuse her any graceor honor. 

Meanwhile Giustinian Giustiniani, standing proudly erect among thenobles of the Doge's suite, searched the crowd for further homage, andwondered at the silence when the charming figure of the baby Marconinodanced in his father's arms--a very embodiment of life and glee. 

It was over in a moment, and the crowd of smaller barges fell back indisorder, for the Doge was passing through the gates of the arsenal; thegalleys were returning back by San Pietro in Castello, and that whichwas to follow of the glories of the day was only for the great ones nowgathering behind that charmèd gate, where the golden chair was waitingin which the Serenissimo should make his royal progress. There wasnothing more for the people until the hour of the Ave Maria should callthe stately procession forth on its homeward way. 

But the brilliant memories of this morning would gladden many a lessgolden day--Viva San Marco! Their voluble tongues were suddenlyunloosed, and those who had been favored with near glimpses of theheroes of the day became centres of animated discussion. Life was goodin Venice! "And thou, Nino, forget not that the Madonna hath been'gentile' to thee! Thou shalt tell thy little ones, when thou art old, that thou hast this day seen, with thine own eyes, the Marconino, whohath given the great galley to the Republic!"

The banquet was over, and there was a stir among the Signoria when theinfant Giustinian was called for that he might receive the thanks ofthe Republic for his princely gift; and a murmur of admiration circledfrom lip to lip as the blooming child was brought into the banquet hall. All eyes were now turned upon the Lady Marina, who had hitherto remainedsurrounded by her household and inconspicuous among the group of nobleVenetian ladies who gave distinction to this festa. 

It was Marcantonio who, with a tenderness that was pathetic and a touchthat was a caress, led her down from her place and folded the littleone's hand in hers. He would have led her to the throne; but a gesturethat was scarcely more than a glance conveyed a command he dared notdisobey. 

They looked to see a flush of pride on her beautiful face as, in answerto the Doge's summons, she came slowly forward, with the tiny hand ofthe boy clasped in hers--his unsteady, childish footsteps echoingunevenly on the marble pavement between her measured movements. But shewalked as in a dream, as if she were no longer one of this brightcompany, yet strangely beautiful to see, with a face like some noblespirit, --pale and grieving, --and in her eyes a great trouble that wasfull of dignity and love. Over the dark velvet of her robe thebountiful, white waves of her hair streamed like a bridal veil, wreathing her brows and her young, pathetic face with silken rings ofdrifted snow. 

But before she had reached the dais prepared for the Signoria at the endof the great hall she paused, as if unable to proceed further, swayingslightly and throwing out her hands to steady herself; a sudden changeswept over her face, and for a moment it seemed that she would fall; thechild, losing hold of her hand, clung sobbing to her skirts, hiding hispretty head. 

Her husband sprang to her aid, tenderly supporting her, but as instantlyshe seemed to recover her strength, smiling upon him graciously, whileshe gently disengaged herself from his hold, leaving the little one withhim, and gliding rapidly forward, looked around her with unrecognizingeyes. 

It had pleased the whim of the Republic to make some ecclesiasticalparade on this festa of Venice which followed so closely upon theprosaic closing scene of the quarrel with Rome, wherein no churchly pomphad been permitted; and as Marina's bewildered gaze steadied itself uponthe noble group of the Signoria, with whom to-day, in great state, satthe Patriarch of Venice with mitre and hierarchical robes and all theattendant group of Venetian bishops, a look of intense relief suddenlyflashed over the trouble in her eyes--as if that which she had soughtwith such long suffering no longer eluded her. 

"Madre Beatissima!" she cried, clasping her crucifix closely to herbreast, and raising her eyes to heaven, "I thank thee!"

The light grew upon her face. 

As her whole life had been merged in this struggle which had onlyconquered her overwrought heart and brain when she had felt that theMadonna had deserted her and delivered her to the wrath of Venice, sonow, in her hallucination, --since the Madonna had brought her toRome, --her faith and power of speech suddenly returned, and she ralliedall her strength to fulfil her mission. 

In that great and sumptuous Hall, flaunting and gay with banners whichchronicled the victories and the power of the Republic--in theimpregnable stronghold of the realm, under the astonished gaze of theentire Venetian court and the brilliant throng of the households ofnobles and ambassadors who looked down from the circling galleries, expectant and awestruck under the spell of so strange a vision--thispale, slight champion of a desperate spiritual struggle, with no host tohelp her save her prayers and faith, with no standard but the crossclasped to her breast, knelt at the feet of the Patriarch, while thesunset light through the broad western window made a radiance where sheknelt--as if Heaven at last had smiled upon her. 

"Oh, Holy Father!" she implored, "have mercy upon Venice! Forgive herunfaithfulness, because she hath meant no sin!

"The Madonna hath granted me to reach Rome at last, because she hathlaid her command upon me in a vision and it could not fail. But allthose, my loved ones, have I lost by the weary way; and save for hermercy I could not have reached thee. 

"With prayers and penance have I striven--and ceased not--since theanguish of thy displeasure came upon Venice. Oh, Holy Father! for allthe mothers who understand and grieve, and for our innocent little ones, and for all those, our beloved, who are good and noble--and yet know notthe hard way of submission, because the Lord hath taught them some otherway--lift thy wrath from Venice, that our Heavenly Father hide not hisface in clouds too heavy for our prayers to reach him!

"It is the will of the Madonna San Donato--thou canst not refuse to liftthe doom!"

The words leaped over each other like a torrent--impetuous, passionate, as if the moments for speech were few. 

"These do I bring--and these, for an offering!" she cried, feverishlyunclasping the lustrous pearls from her throat and girdle and layingthem at the feet of the Patriarch. "And all the dear happiness of mylife have I given, that I might reach thee with this prayer for Venice!Oh, Holy Father, accept my sacrifice!"

She reverently pressed the hem of the priestly robe to her lips, andthose who knew of her flight from Venice understood that she fancied shehad reached the Roman Court and was kneeling in the presence of theSovereign Pontiff; but in their amazement that she alone, who was dyingfrom the grief of it, did not know that the interdict had been removed, it had not seemed possible to answer her. 

But there was no room for anger as they listened--though her plea was ajudgment on the court of Venice--for her voice thrilled them with itsunearthly sadness, and, looking into her beautiful, spirit face, theysaw that all her consciousness was merged in her intense realization ofthe utmost terror of the curse, and in her one burning hope--to whichall things else were as nothing and in which she herself was whollylost. 

The Patriarch, moved with immeasurable compassion, raised her tenderly. "My daughter, " he said, in a voice that trembled with feeling, "Veniceis restored to favor. The Interdict is removed!"

Through the stern assembly a wave of sympathy surged irresistibly, impelling them to comfort this lovely, grieving lady, distraught byanguished brooding. Scarcely knowing that their emotion expressed itselfin words, they caught up the Patriarch's answer and echoed it from groupto group--from gallery to gallery--until it gathered impetus and rolledlike a Hallelujah Chorus through the vast, vaulted chamber. 

"Venice is restored to favor; the Interdict is removed!"

The light grew upon her face. 

How should it seem strange to her that her prayer at the feet of theHoly Father had wrought this pardon for Venice--was it not for this thatthe blessed Madonna of San Donato had sent her? She had promisedblessing for sacrifice!

She stood for a moment, radiant, while the chorus of many voicesthrobbed around her--her face like an angel's for joy and love--aglorified vision in the parting rays of the evening sun--then her faintfluttering breath died in a _Benedicite_!

 * * * * *The vesper bells of Venice came softly through the twilight, calling toAve Maria.