anding
where the elected noble dons the rank of _Serenissimo_--this
kaleidoscopic epitome of the life of the Republic was bewildering.

"How was it possible that all these people could take part in it without
emotion?" the young patrician asked himself, forgetting that in this
familiar scene the emotion only was new for him.

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

The influences of their surroundings were strong upon them both; but the
young fellow, in his bounding life, craved something more than this
formal induction into the official life of his sumptuous state--he
longed to feel the human throb beneath it, that the sense of its weight
might be lifted; but he could not find his voice until they had passed
through the loggia and reached the chambers of the _Avvogadori_, where
sat 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, more
steadily, 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,--those
officers of the law whose rulings in their department were
inexorable,--the act of confirmation before the Imperial Senate,
whither, in grave procession, they immediately fared, preceded by the
sacred "Libro d'Oro," upon which the oath of allegiance was sworn with
bended knee--the ceremony was soon over, and Marcantonio stood enrolled
among the ruling body of the great Republic.

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

"Like the Orseoli!" s