A Golden Book of Venice Part 9

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

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

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

"Surely thou dost recall this breastplate of the General Taddeo Giustiniani, who forced the Austrians to surrender Trieste, when Venice laid 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 it chained. It is a priceless jewel in the history of our house, for Trieste 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 as an armory, was like a prison in its construction,--as strong and as forbidding,--and here, among the ancestral relics, were kept the arms which every n.o.bleman, by Venetian law, was required to hold in readiness to equip his household against uprisings of the populace, who were, by this same law, debarred these means of self-defense.

At a sign from the Senator a young squire came forward, proudly bearing a sword with a jeweled hilt, in an intricately wrought scabbard.

Giustinian drew it from its sheath, displaying a blade exquisitely damascened with acanthus foliage, as he turned to his son.

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

The torch-bearers flashed their lights over it, and the squires of the household pressed forward to admire it, but Giustinian cut short the enthusiastic chorus of the young men-at-arms and Marcantonio's eager words of appreciation, crossing the sombre hall with stately steps; for to his mind this important day held many ceremonies yet unfulfilled, and the pomp with which he chose to surround them was not a circ.u.mstance to be dilated on.

"This," he said, as he touched a quaint dagger, "belonged to thine ancestor, Marco Giustiniani, Amba.s.sador to the Scaglieri; there were other envoys of our name in other Italian provinces, in England and the Papal 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 of thine house. Perhaps, in these latter days, a man may best distinguish himself in statesmanship, for the mind is a weapon not to be slighted--when it is builded with strength, sharpened with careful use, and so wielded"--his gaze fell full upon Marcantonio for a weighty moment--"so wielded that it hath no pliancy save at the will of its owner. For sometimes it chanceth"--again he paused for a moment--"that a mind hath more masters than one, and Venice brooks no rival."

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

To-day the young patrician almost resented this persistent marshaling of the shades of his ancestors, though at heart he was proud of them, and the prestige and luxury of his surroundings suited him well; but he chafed under his father's scrutiny, which, it seemed to him, unveiled the differences of their temperaments to an almost indecorous degree.

The thought of Marina was tingling in his pulses, but he would not yield it up until the propitious moment came; and the strong consciousness of this sweet new queenship made the constant a.s.sertion of the sovereignty of Venice not easy to endure. But the remembrance of his vow of allegiance, just rendered before the Senate, returned to him rather as the public invest.i.ture of his rights as a man than as a claim of self-surrender; and he vowed to himself to use that right, in all possible conflict between himself and the Republic, in questions personal and dear; for the pleasant freedom of his life thus far had left him less in awe of the senatorial majesty than Giustinian Giustiniani would have deemed possible. But how could he hope to win his father's consent to any unpatrician alliance!

He pa.s.sed the elder Giustinian hastily and paused beyond the next group of armor--battered breastplates, casques, and shields of the twelfth century--but his thoughts were elsewhere.

"These," said the Senator, inexorably recalling him, "were of the famous siege of Lepanto, where, but for the favor of the Holy Father, our house had 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 of antique trophies of prowess and not call to mind visions of heroism and suffering in which the Giustiniani of those days--_every one who belonged to Venice_--had yielded up his life in this great struggle with the Turks!

Yes, every one who belonged to Venice. For the young Nicol, the last survivor of their ancient name, was already set apart from the world by his priestly vows, amid the quiet groves of the island of San Nicol. It was a pretty romance--all those n.o.ble councillors, trembling from fear of the extinction of this most ancient and princely house, framing humble pet.i.tions to the Holy Father; the youthful monk, leaving the tranquil solitude of his island sanctuary, unfrocked with honor by a Pope's decree, to don the crimson robe of senator and wed the daughter of the Doge! And later, when sons and daughters many had risen up to call them blessed, the old haunting charm of the convent rea.s.serting itself, the return of the Giustinian--this solitary link between the long lines of his n.o.ble house, before and after--to his lonely cell on San Nicol; the retirement of the Lady Anna from the sweet motherhood of her home to reign as Lady Abbess in the convent of Sant' Elena; the nimbus of sainthood for the pair when their quiet days were closed--it was a pretty story, leading easily to thoughts of Marina.

"To-morrow," said Giustinian Giustiniani, as if in answer to his thoughts, "at dawn of day, there will be Ma.s.s in the capello Giustiniani on Sant' Elena; and later we must visit the shrines of San Nicol and San Lorenzo. For in the Church also we have had our part. A Giustinian was first Patriarch of Venice; a saint was father to our else broken line--we have had our share in Church and State, and it behooves a member of the Consiglio to remember the honors of his house."

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

When they had reached the landing opening into the banquet hall the Senator, turning in the direction of his own apartments, released his son with a motion of his hand toward the great, splendid chamber from which issued ripples of girlish laughter; and Marcantonio stood for a few moments under the arches which opened into it, looking on un.o.bserved, for here it seemed that the fete was already reigning.

The n.o.ble maidens who attended the Lady Laura, fresh and charming, were knotting loops of ribbon in pendant garlands or grouping flowers in great vases between the columns which crossed the chamber from end to end--darting up the stairway to the gallery to alter a festoon in garland or brocade. Sallies of laughter, s.n.a.t.c.hes of song, and pelting of flowers, like a May-day frolic, made the work long in the doing, but full of grace; and now and again, as if any purpose were wearying for such light-hearted maidens, they dropped their garlands and glided over the polished floor, twining and untwining their arms--a reflex in active life, and not less radiant, of the nymphs of Ba.s.sano on the painted ceiling, between those wonderful, gilded arabesques of Sansovino.

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

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

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

"I know not which pleaseth me best," he answered lightly; "the grace of the garlands, or the grace of the dance, or the grace of the _damigelle_ who have so wrought for the beauty of this fete. 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 to dance at one's own fete, Signer Consigliere?" she retorted, mockingly.

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

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

"Signer Consigliere,"--she began, with a stately congratulation, when they were quite alone in her own boudoir; she had been planning, during the long morning, a speech that should be of a dignity to suit so great an occasion, but the words died away upon her lips; for once she forgot Venice and the Ca' Giustiniani, and the mother was uppermost. She folded her arms about him closely, and rested her head upon his shoulder in delicious abandon.

"Marco, my boy!" she murmured.

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

"This day is not as other days," she said, half in apology for her weakness, 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--every honor that Venice may offer to a Venetian of the Venetians! Forget it not, 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 upon a table and drew her gently toward it.

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

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

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

"Never hath there been a more exquisite! It is the t.i.tian's work?"

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

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

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

"If Paolo Cagliari findeth none so beautiful among the n.o.ble damigelle who will grace thy fete to-night as this face which he hath painted, we will forgive him," she said playfully. "But thee, Marco, we will not forgive. The time hath come when thou shouldst choose; thy father and I have spoken of this."

She came close to him and folded his hand caressingly. "The Contessa Beata Tagliapietra hath a wonderful charm; and there is the Lady Agnesina Contarini--a face for a t.i.tian!"

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

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

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

The Lady Laura stood as if petrified.