place in the state, his possible part in its glory--the dream which came
to all young noblemen of the portrait in that splendid Sala di Consiglio
of his own face grown venerable, wearing the ermine and the ducal
coronet, in token of that supremacy so dear to each Venetian heart, but
jealously held by every noble of the Republic within confines which
lessened with each succession, until the crown was assumed in trembling
and ignominious restriction--if with external pomp and honor that might
befit a king.

But he wanted time; he wanted liberty to choose his own life or enjoy
his restlessness, and he realized the more keenly, from the sense of
power that was so chafed in the curbing, that he was too young to be
forced into such ruthless service; and he could not but acquiesce the
less fervently because it was not open to him to _give_ himself, since
the claim of Venice was absolute and resistance was a crime.

But with quite other sentiments the preparations for the fête were
progressing in that ancient family of Giustiniani, where the day was
awaited with an impatience which increased the fervor and the pomp of
preparation, but was not otherwise manifested in any sign of undignified
eagerness. No house in Venice had held this right for more generations;
no house was princelier in its bearing, nor more superbly republican! No
member of that Supreme Council was more esteemed than the stern
Giustinian, who had been again and again elected to the most important
missions of the state; no _donna nobile_ of all the Venetians was
prouder, more highly born, more beautiful, nor more coldly gracious than
the mother of Marcantonio.

In such an environment there was but one career possible for the only
son of the house, who had been carefully trained, according to the