d, "in honor of this day--thy
maiden sword. So far as the handiwork of Cellini may make it worthy of a
son of our house, it hath been worthily chosen for thee. Yet, unless
thou leavest it to those who come after thee, enriched by the name of a
Giustinian who hath wrought of his best for Venice, it will be all
unworthy of a place among these trophies."

The torch-bearers flashed their lights over it, and the squires of the
household pressed forward to admire it, but Giustinian cut short the
enthusiastic chorus of the young men-at-arms and Marcantonio's eager
words of appreciation, crossing the sombre hall with stately steps; for
to his mind this important day held many ceremonies yet unfulfilled, and
the pomp with which he chose to surround them was not a circumstance to
be dilated on.

"This," he said, as he touched a quaint dagger, "belonged to thine
ancestor, Marco Giustiniani, Ambassador to the Scaglieri; there were
other envoys of our name in other Italian provinces, in England and the
Papal Court, for we have been great in statescraft as well as in war.
But I wrong thee in _seeming_ to think thou knowest not the history of
thine house. Perhaps, in these latter days, a man may best distinguish
himself in statesmanship, for the mind is a weapon not to be
slighted--when it is builded with strength, sharpened with careful use,
and so wielded"--his gaze fell full upon Marcantonio for a weighty
moment--"so wielded that it hath no pliancy save at the will of its
owner. For sometimes it chanceth"--again he paused for a moment--"that a
mind hath more masters than one, and Venice brooks no rival."

His father had been pointing out one heirloom after another while he
spoke, and the pauses which Marcantonio found irritating, because they
seemed to indicate hidden meanings to be unraveled, might proceed only
from his effort to carry several trains of thought at once; but it was a
habit of the elder Giustinian which held not a less share in the
education of his son because it was distasteful to him.

To-day the young patrician almost resented this persistent marshaling of
the shades of his ancestors, though at heart he was proud of them, and
the prestige and luxury of his surroundings suited him well; but he
chafed under his father's scrutiny, which, it seemed to him, unveiled
the differences of their temperaments to an almost indecorous degree.
The thought of Marina was tingling in his pulses, but he would not yield
it up u