you, let me share the unmerited honor of this commendation with Paolo
Cagliari, _detto Veronese_, without whom my little had been nothing!"

The chivalry and grace of the young noble elicited a murmur of
approbation, as he courteously indicated his friend.

The Veronese, to whom this _dénouement_ was unexpected, and who had long
since been crowned with highest honors by the Republic, did not move
forward, but, acknowledging the tribute of his pupil with a genial
smile, he stood with folded arms, unembarrassed and commanding, scanning
the faces of the assembly, well pleased with the effect produced by the
words of Marcantonio, whom, at all hazards, he intended to befriend. He
realized that the atmosphere might never be so favorable.

"The crowning grace of that goblet, my Lords of Venice," he said boldly,
"is lent it by the face of the most beautiful maiden it hath ever been
my fortune to paint--than whom Venice hath none more charming."

There was a murmur of surprise from the younger nobles, who were
standing in groups about the hall of the Gran' Consiglio; they had
supposed the face to be merely a dainty conceit of the artist's fancy,
and those nearest gathered about the case with sudden interest.

But the face of Marcantonio betrayed him, while he stood unabashed in
the circle of the senators, though with mounting color, his hand, under
shelter of his cloak, resting upon the jeweled hilt of the sword upon
which he had sworn his first knightly vow.

Giustinian Giustiniani rose to his feet. "Her name, Messer Paolo
Cagliari!" he thundered.