The group of Councillors on the dais swayed and parted against that
wonderful background of Tintoret, the dead Christ and the two Doges
reverently kneeling in proof of the devotion of this Most Serene
Republic. Around the vast and sumptuous chamber, where the proud
Signoria assembled, like a council of kings, Venice had chronicled her
triumphs and her religious humility in endless repetition and intimately
blended, as became her faith; the Doges Priuli, kneeling in prayer;
Venice, mounted defiantly on the Lion of Saint Mark; other portraits of
other doges, in attitudes of devotion; other pictures of the Christ, of
the saints, always symbolic; but over all,--triumphant, beautiful,--with
its irresistible sea-tones, cool and strong, Venice, Queen of the Sea,
compelling the homage of her rulers, from the ceiling's height.

Twice the Doge essayed to speak, but the faces of the younger men warned
him of the danger of such an interruption at a moment when the entire
vote had seemed sure, and so filled him with wrath that he dared not
speak until he could control his voice, lest its tremor be mistaken for
fear. The moment seemed an hour.

"Reveal thyself!" Leonardo Donato commanded at last; "and rise!"

The supplicant slowly rose, throwing back her veil, and revealing a face
that was spirit-like in its pallor and beauty, with deep eyes,
unfathomably sad. Her maidens gathered close about her, as if to support
her, for she trembled as she stood.

A low murmur arose. "The Lady of the Giustiniani!"

In all that vast Council Chamber there was no movement, save the slight
commotion among a group of red-robed senators farthest from the throne,
who were forcibly detaining the Senator Marcantonio Giustiniani, and the
imperative gesture from the dais which had waved him back and hushed his
involuntary exclamation of horror. Among the Savii, Giustinian
Giustiniani sat livid with anger, close under the eyes of that one calm,
terrible Counsellor whose gaze, fastened upon him, rendered speech
impossible.

"My daughter," said the Doge, in a tone full of consideration, "this is
not fitting. At another moment we will listen to thy request. Thou
mayest withdraw."

"Serenissimo, Prince of Venice!" Marina cried, stretching forth her
hands, "be gracious to me! _Now_ must I speak my message, or it will be
too late--and it hath been granted me in a vision, for the welfare of
the people of Venice. _If the Ruler of this Republic will win the
c