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?"