onio mio, and the Bucentoro will be ready for
thee," cries one of the more daring as he vanishes; "hast thou already
bespoken thy groomsman? I also am a Castellan."

Across the Piazza San Giacomo, under the famous colonnade of San Giacomo
di Rialto, the talk turned chiefly on the great event which was to
culminate on the morrow, and which for three years had consumed much
time in Senate and State, as the patricians strolled to and fro in
lively discussion.

It was here that for generations everything that affected the commerce
of Venice was held up in the light of expression as free and candid as
it was possible for opinion to be in this highly organized oligarchy;
and here as elsewhere, Venice, like a faithful mother, watched over the
welfare of her sons, though they were grown to man's estate; and since
her commerce was, in fact, the mainspring of her wealth and prestige--a
very vital part of her--she kept before their eyes on the exterior of
this ancient church in the market-place where her merchant-princes daily
met, her admonition to uphold them in righteous dealing. One might
decipher it wrought into the wall of the apse under the stones of the
frieze, in quaint lettering that tempted to the perusal and endowed the
mastered motto with the impressiveness of a rite--for the legend assumed
a quality of mystery, being much defaced from time.

"_Hoc circa templum sit jus mercatoribus aequm, pondera ne vergant nec
sit conventio prava._"

(Around the Temple let the merchant's law be just, his weights true, and
his covenant faithful.)

Among the frescoes on the walls under the colonnade was the famous
_mappa mondo_, upon which were indicated the various routes of Venetian
commerce throughout the world.

Two dignified elderly men wearing the black silk robe of the merchant
with chains of heavy gold links were strolling to and fro in eager
conversation--their comrades showing signs of deference as they passed.

"Cyprus will seem nearer now," said one of them, pausing for a moment
before the map to point out a speck in the Mediterranean with his
gold-topped staff.

"A century nearer than it was in the days of Comnenus," the other
answered him, with a recollection of the attempted purchase and
occupancy of the island in those earlier times. "But now--praise be to
San Marco, the time is ripe."

"And Venice hath never ceased to covet that 'Island of Delights!' But
now her fleets may lie at anchor in the splendid port