Chapter 9

It was not often that a member won distinction on the day of his entrance to the Gran' Consiglio; the favor shown by the Senate was great; the position of the Ca' Giustiniani among the proud Venetian nobility was beyond question; and some of the fathers of the young and noble ladies who had graced the banquet watched the young Giustinian with a quite personal interest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Veronese, to whom this _dénouement_ was unexpected, and who had long since been crowned with highest honors by the Republic, did not move forward, but, acknowledging the tribute of his pupil with a genial smile, he stood with folded arms, unembarrassed and commanding, scanning the faces of the assembly, well pleased with the effect produced by the words of Marcantonio, whom, at all hazards, he intended to befriend. He realized 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 been my fortune to paint--than whom Venice hath none more charming."

There was a murmur of surprise from the younger nobles, who were standing in groups about the hall of the Gran' Consiglio; they had supposed 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 in the circle of the senators, though with mounting color, his hand, under shelter of his cloak, resting upon the jeweled hilt of the sword upon which he had sworn his first knightly vow.

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

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

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

"Not so, my father," Marcantonio replied, undaunted. "For I first would ask a grace of our most illustrious Signoria,--the which may it indeed please 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, so faithfully have I vowed to wed none other than Marina Magagnati! And it is my father who hath taught me to hold sacred the faith of a Venetian and a Giustinian. But my lady is not _called_ of noble blood."

"She is daughter to Messer Girolamo Magagnati,"--it was the Veronese who spoke,--"than whom, in all Murano, is none better reputed for the fabrics of his stabilimento, nor more noble in his bearing; albeit, he is 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 and looked defiantly around him--a splendid figure, with the jeweled orders of France and Rome and the Republic flashing on his breast. His gaze slowly swept the faces of the assembly, then returned to rest upon the great votive picture which filled the wall from end to end above the Doge's throne--_his work_--like the glory of the ceiling, which declared the 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 of our Republic, hath it pleased this most gracious Senate to declare its favor to a daughter of a master-worker of Murano, in a decree whereby it was provided that the maid should wed a noble of most ancient house, and if there should be children of the marriage, each name should stand unprejudiced, 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 the Senate hath once decreed is again possible."

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

The young patrician slowly ascended the steps of the dais, and closed his 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 diplomatic force; he was a man of growing power who must be bound to the service of Venice, even were he not the last of a princely line which the Republic would fain see continued to her own latest generation. So unabashed in such a presence, he would be tenacious of his purpose and hold to his vow with unflinching knightliness.

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

Never before had appeal been made to this decree; it was not fresh in the minds of the Savii and the six most venerated Councillors without whose acquiescence the mandate of the Doge was powerless, and they had listened to the bold declaration with a surprise not unmingled with resentment, that so young a man should make, in their presence, an assertion touching matters of State which they could neither affirm nor deny! At a sign from one of the chancellors, one of the three counsellors at law of the Avvogadori di Commun, who had the keeping of the Golden Book, had been immediately summoned from adjoining chambers in the Palace and had confirmed the statement. Such a marriage had indeed taken place in the latter half of the fourteenth century; the number of the decree authorizing the full nobility of the children had been noted in the Golden Book, the original decree could therefore be found, within the archives, upon demand of the Savii.

The case had changed from a matter of gracious policy to one of unquestioned importance in the minds of the gravest counsellors of the Republic--in spite of the glamor of romance which threatened to lessen its dignity by winning the enthusiastic support of the younger members of the assembly and the jealous opposition of the older senators, who were tenacious of the privileges and restrictions of the ancient nobility of Venice. The faces of many among them were dark and threatening. One of their number high in authority, whose seat was near the Savii on the dais, and who was known to be of the strictest oligarchical proclivities, risked the words, "_Remember the Serrata Consiglio_," in a clear undertone, but was immediately repressed by a terrible glance from more than one of the commanding Savii.

Giustinian Giustiniani was alone kept silent by the force of conflicting emotions which left him only strength enough to realize that he was too angry to advise with dignity, though he was one of the Chiefs of the Ten. He had been outwitted in the presence of the Maggior Consiglio by a son who had shown an astuteness and courtliness of which any Venetian father might be proud, together with a knowledge of the point upon which he based his appeal, which required the summoning of the Avvogadori di Commun, though it was uttered in the presence of the six supreme Councillors of the Republic! He could not interpose to demean his ancient lineage by consenting to this unpatrician alliance; he would not accept 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 the highest tribunal of the realm. He was trembling with wrath and filled with admiration, while he sat speechless, awaiting the issue of a question which so deeply concerned the interests of the Ca' Giustiniani.

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

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

The silence was breathless. All eyes turned instinctively upon the young noble, 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 the Doge at last with deep impressiveness, "this record is the original decree of this Senate, of the fourteenth century, given under the Great Seal of the Republic in 1357. It hath been duly laid before our Councillors in your presence and unanimously confirmed by them. And they do unanimously consent to this our ruling in favor of the petition which hath this day been presented before this Council by the noble Marcantonio, of the ancient and princely house of Giustinian. Since in this sixteenth century our Republic, by grace of God and favor of her Rulers, is not less enlightened than in those earlier days to perceive when graciousness may promote her welfare, in granting favor to a noble house which hath ever shown to Venice its valor, its discretion, its unfailing loyalty."

A cry of exaltation rang through the house like an electric thrill; the senators 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 imperious government, was equivalent to a command and a public betrothal, and for a few ecstatic days the heir of the Ca' Giustiniani went about in a state of exaltation too great to be aware of any home shadows--the slumbering anger of the Capo of the Ten and an inharmonious atmosphere wherein each was intensely conscious of an individual estimate of the great event which touched them all so nearly.

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

But the decree would soon be a state paper; it was already an accepted fact in the halls of the Council and in the salons of the nobility, and the 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 the Giustiniani?"

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

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

"The Lady Laura had never been more stately," they told each other when they entered their gondolas again, "nor more undisturbed. There were no signs of displeasure; it must be that the lowly maid was very beautiful."

"Was it a thing to make one sad, to have a son who could twist the rulers 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 the Consiglio.

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

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

For these few blissful days the lovers had heaven to themselves, floating about at twilight on the shores of the Lido, where there were none to trouble the clear serenity of their joy by the chilling breath of criticism. "That white rose which I brought thee was in sign of my mother's favor," Marcantonio reminded Marina more than once; "and for the 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 so exquisite, gliding over the opal of the still lagoons at twilight.

But old Girolamo, sure now of the decree which should number his daughter among the patricians of this Republic where, through long generations, his family had made their boast that they represented the people, was in a feverish mood--grave, elated, sad by turns, unwilling to 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 old to 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,--would they prize the treasure which was the very light of his life, that he should break his heart to yield her up?

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

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

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

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

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

"Even sooner than thy hope," she echoed, feeling dreary, though he was sitting 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 how beautiful she is!"

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

She rose and going slowly to her cabinet brought him her token--a string of 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 one time one pearl, at another more, as I have found the rarest lustre. Some of these, they say, have been hidden in Venice since the time of John of Constantinople, who left them for his ransom; it may be but a tale, yet they are rare in tint; and I have gleaned them, Marco, since thou wert a little lad, not knowing who should wear them--not knowing, Marco----"

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

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

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

"And she will wear them worthily," Marcantonio answered, flushing, "and like a queen, for none hath greater dignity, else could I not have chosen 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 very hard for her. "My boy--my boy! Does she love thee well for all thy faith and 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 with thee?"

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

He went back with some comprehension of the barrier he had thought so lightly to remove, with a vow in his soul to be more to each; because of it 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 the meeting, Marina would surely do; for it is thou who must guard for us these little matters of custom, which none knoweth better. But her father--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 wouldst understand. For Marina is all the world to him, and I would take her from him. Yet so he loveth her that never hath he said me nay. Naught hath he asked for her of gold nor jewels, but only this--that she shall not come unbidden to our home."

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

"And so--?"

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

She looked up as if she would have answered him, but she could not speak.

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

"Nay, Marco--nay," she said, and drew him closer, clasping her hand in his. 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 I asked 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 she had often done when he was a little child; but now, in this sudden deepening of her nature, with a new yearning.

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

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

"Nay, it will be sweet to have part in thy happiness," she cried bravely. "To-night, at sunset, will I go with thee, quite simply, in thy gondola, to bid my daughter welcome--as our custom is. I will not fail in honor to my Marco's bride! And since it is love that her father asketh, I will give her this rose, for thy dear sake. But the bridal must be soon, to make this endless talking cease. And before we leave her--for she will learn to love me, Marco mio, and she will not take thee from me?--I will give her the token that is fitting for a daughter of our house."

* * * * *

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

"Nay, not that," said an older senator, resentfully; "those are but trifles. But the young fellow himself is the danger; too positive and outspoken, revolutionary and of overturning methods, withal persuasive----"

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

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