A Golden Book of Venice Part 11

He waited for her to speak, but she did not tremble now, though he was searching 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 hands between his, which were tightly strained together in a knotted clasp, as if he would make them the outlet for some unbearable emotion.

The previous evening was the first they had not pa.s.sed together since the death of Zuanino; her father had sent her word that he had matter which 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 a little as he proceeded with his tale and her arm stole round him.

"Yesterday, at the stabilimento Beroviero, we were summoned by a call of our Capo of the Ten to witness the approval that should be pa.s.sed on the exhibit of that stabilimento; we all, of the Guild of Murano, were there as always. And foremost among the productions, most marvelous for beauty, was a fabric of their lucent crystal--thou knowest it, Marina?

My child--how came thy face there? _Thy_ face, Marina--set round with l.u.s.trous pearls!"

He folded her to his breast with sudden pa.s.sion, and stooped his head to her shoulder for an instant, lifting it quickly that she might not feel the 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 not have thee suffer from my pain, that I told thee not. Never again will I hold aught from thee."

"Thy pain, Marina? and thy face--and for the young n.o.ble, Giustiniani? I do not understand."

"Father, because I could grant him nothing and he would give me everything, and because--because G.o.d sent the love and the Madonna hath made me feel that it would be sweet, I granted him only this--my portrait--because he pleaded so one could not resist; and because he said it would win the consent of all to see that he treated me like a queen!"

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

"My father," answered the maiden proudly, for he had drawn away from her, "there is no stealing of that which I would gladly yield him, if it were thy pleasure and that of the Ca' Giustiniani! And there would have been no secret; but I--to spare thee pain of knowing that I suffered--I would 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 would spare thee pain! Father--I have only thee!" Her courage broke in a quick sob.

"Nay, then--nay, then," he faltered softly, stroking her bowed head; "he is no man to love, if he would let thee suffer; he should take thee--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 true knight!" exclaimed the old man fiercely.

"Ay, father, so would he; but I have told him that thou and I are not less proud than those of his own house, and without their consent it may not be."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He is n.o.ble enough to be thy son, my father--and chivalrous as thou--but we are too n.o.ble to let him do aught unbefitting his n.o.ble house; for thou knowest the Giustiniani are like princes in Venice, and Marco is their only son. He oweth duty to the Republic; and this day, in the 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 it otherwise; it is only _my_ promise that is lacking. This will I not give until the Giustiniani make me welcome, or there would be no happiness for Marco. He shall not lose, in loving me. The Signor Giustinian Giustiniani is so stern--and one of the Chiefs--I would not vex him and bring down the displeasure of the Ten; I would bring my Marco happiness--not pain."

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

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

"Thou shouldst make thyself brave!" her father exclaimed, with a quick, anxious glance at her simple home toilette. "He will pa.s.s from thee to many n.o.ble ladies in the palazzo Giustiniani--all in bravery of festival."

"Nay, my father, so he found me; I would not hold him by devices, of which I know naught. There will be much to suffer, and these trifles cannot enter into anything so deep and real. I would rather he should change to-day--if he could be light enough to change. Besides," she faltered, with a quick, charming blush, "I think it is already his step without; and to-night he will have so few moments to spare me--Marco!"

Coming forward through the shadow of the doorway, the young n.o.ble--deferent, masterful, unrenouncing--was a suitor not easily to be baffled by any claims of Venice.

Girolamo turned quickly to his child, then looked away, for her face made a radiance in the room; he, her father, who had loved her through all the days of her maiden life with a great tenderness, had never known the fullness of her beauty until now; the soft folds of the simple robe flowing away from her into the surrounding shadow left the pure young charm of her head and face in luminous relief, as the brilliant young n.o.ble, in embroidered velvet and silken hose and jeweled clasps--a type of sumptuous modern day Venice--stepped forward into the little circle of light, bowing before her with courtly deference.

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

Girolamo Magagnati had promised himself that he would be a true knight to his beloved child; he would question and prove this bold young n.o.ble who claimed, with such presumption, so great a prize--not humbly suing, as he should have done; he would make him tremble and wait; he should learn that his daughter was not to be the more easily won because she was of the people! Then, with the fullness of his vow upon him, and with a heart loving indeed, but brave as proud, he had raised his eyes and beheld a vision in which neither n.o.bles nor people held part--only a maiden, glorified by her love and trust; and a lover--prince or peasant it mattered not--for on his face it was luminously written that in all the world there was for him none other than she. And the vision, like an apprehension 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," said Marcantonio Giustiniani, turning to the older man with winning courtesy; "and sooner should I have come to the father of Marina to crave the grace I cannot do without, but that she bade me tarry. Yet now--she herself hath spoken?"

He looked from one to the other questioningly.

"There are no secrets between us," Girolamo answered with dignity, while weighing some words that should welcome his daughter's suitor with discretion 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 proves himself worthy; for her happiness is dear to me. But the difficulties are 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 more solemnly have I sworn allegiance to the Republic than I would pray Messer Magagnati to bear me witness that Marina--and none other--will I wed!"

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

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

"And I bring thee a '_boccolo_,' Marina, since thou art of the people and wouldst have me remember all thy traditions," he cried gaily. "Yet this one hath a fragrance like none other that hath ever blossomed on the festa of San Marco--my blessed patron!--for I culled it from the garland which my mother bade her maidens for a token make about the table 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 his grave, deep voice, concealing his triumph.

But Marcantonio had already answered to the timid question of Marina's eyes, with a ringing tone of a.s.surance.