_ CHAPTER IX
With the nonchalance that concealed a skill all Venetian the gondoliers of the Giustiniani guided them gracefully through the floating craft moored to the stakes which rose in sheafs before their palace, announcing the colors of their noble house. Barges bearing flowers and decorations for the fete, fruits and game, were unloading on the broad marble steps, and through the wrought open-work of the splendid gates a scene of activity was disclosed in the nearer court which served as an office for the various departments of the household; while the house-master had come down the steps from his cozy lodge beside the entrance, and stood dispensing orders to a group of eager domestics.
In the deep shadow of the entrance-court the open one, through which the light streamed radiantly, seemed far distant, and when the great bell sent clanging echoes from court to court, gondoliers in undress liveries, who were lazily lounging and chatting, sprang to a show of activity over all those finishing touches of polish and nicety which had been achieved long before; and the lithe figures coming and going, throwing themselves into graceful attitudes over their semblance of labor, exchanging joyous sallies in anticipation of the evening's revelry, awoke a contagious merriment. Marcantonio rallied from the heaviness of the morning and felt young again, as he yielded to their influence and wandered among them, tossing compliments and repartees with Venetian freedom.
In the midst of this harmless trifling the voice of Giustinian Giustiniani sounded sternly.
"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 nobleman, 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 circumstance to be dilated on.
"This," he said, as he touched a quaint dagger, "belonged to thine ancestor, Marco Giustiniani, Ambassador 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 assertion 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 investiture 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 passed 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 Nicolo, 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 Nicolo. It was a pretty romance--all those noble councillors, trembling from fear of the extinction of this most ancient and princely house, framing humble petitions 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 reasserting itself, the return of the Giustinian--this solitary link between the long lines of his noble house, before and after--to his lonely cell on San Nicolo; 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 Mass in the capello Giustiniani on Sant' Elena; and later we must visit the shrines of San Nicolo 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 unobserved, for here it seemed that the fete was already reigning.
The noble 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, snatches 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 Bassano 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 Titian'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 noble 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 Titian!"
"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.
"I know her not," she said, when she could speak. "Name her to me." Her voice was hard and strained.
"Do not speak so, madre mia! Love her--she is so charming! And she will not 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, unless thou plead with me for my happiness she will not wed me--she is so proud."
"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 of Venice, then?"
"A Venetian of the Venetians, my mother, with the love of Venice in her soul--but not----"
"Marcantonio, explain thine enigma! How should there be a name of all our nobles unknown to me?"
"There are nobles of the 'Libro d'Oro,' my mother, and--nobles of the people, 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 to Venice! 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 much more likely to forget; but for this have I sworn, that which my heart teaches me for noble will I do, and she whom I love will I wed--or none other."
"Marco!" the word seemed a desperate appeal.
"That do I swear upon this sword which my father hath given me to prove my 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 grown tender and pleading again.
"I also love thee, Marco," she answered more gently, for none could resist his voice when this mood was upon him; "but I may not help thee to 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; thou knowest her not. I would bring her to thee to win thee, but she will not come. 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. How should 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, my mother, from the legends of our house. This sword, upon which I have sworn it, I lay at thy feet. Bid me raise it in token of thy favor and of thine aid in this one thing which I ask of thee."
They stood looking into each other's faces, her pride melting under the glow of the beautiful new strength in the face of the son whom she had thought so yielding; yet it was she who had striven to teach him knightliness.
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 little Contessa Beata is a
contadina beside her! Yet, it is not pride, I think, but love and care for my happiness," he added, grown suddenly bold. "She will not come to bring me sorrow; and she hath said that my duty 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 daughter care for him that, to save him pain of knowing that she suffers for lack of thy welcome, she hath not told him. Shall the Veronese plead with thee better than thine own son? For he knoweth the maiden well; and the father, who is most honorably reported in Venice for the wonder of his discoveries in his industry of glass. He is of the people--of the 'original citizens'--for of the days before the
serrata[1] hath his family records; but he might well be of the Signoria, so grave he is and full 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 thy mother's favor? I will not have thee suffer, if I can give thee aid. But one may suffer in other ways--quite other--which thou hast no knowledge of, for to thee there seemeth to be, in all the world, nothing worthy but this wish of thine! But it is no promise; one must ponder in so great 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 scant time to recover themselves; but his eyes fell at once upon the magnificent goblet, and there was pleasure in his stern face.
"This, then, is of thy designing, Marcantonio," he exclaimed, as he stooped to examine it in its case of satin and velvet. "A veritable gift-piece! And already thou hast won the favor of the Senate, since it hath been reported to them by our Chief of the Ten, who hath the industries of Murano in charge, that at the exhibit given yestere'en a goblet more sumptuous than that prepared for his Majesty of France was of thy designing. The Secretary will bring thee this night a summons from the Ten to appear before them on the morrow to receive their congratulations, because of the inspiration thou hast given to our most valued industry.
"It is a rare mark of favor that it hath been confided to me," Giustinian continued, still examining the goblet with pride, "since custom doth require that one should withdraw from the sitting of the Council when any matter touching his house is treated. But Morosini, by grace of the Signoria, hath been with me for a moment, that there may be no misgivings of fear upon this fete-day of our house. And to-night this summons to favor shall be presented, to honor the youngest member of the Consiglio. Marcantonio, I am proud of thee; the Ten will be here--every one! And verily the goblet is beautiful. It shall be well displayed in the great banquet hall."
"Here, in my boudoir, where my boy hath placed it," said the mother quickly, as the Senator would have lifted it, "since it is my gift. And, Marco"--She turned to him a face softened and beautified by the struggle, which had been very great, and her eyes were deep with a light which bound him to her forever.
"Marco mio, it shall be well displayed. For I will bid my maidens circle this table whereon it rests with a wreath of roses--white and very beautiful--in token of thy mother's favor." _