arches came the gleam and shimmer of the sea. Up and down the splendid
stairway that opened immediately from the Porta della Carta the
Venetians came and went--nobles old and young; the people, bringing
wrongs to be adjusted, or favors to be granted, or some secret message
for the terrible _Bocca di Leone_; the people, rich and poor, in
continuous tread upon this Giant Stairway, guarded by the gods of war
and of the sea; the winged Lion enthroned above, just over the landing
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.