made his way back to the Palazzo Polani. The
merchant and Giulia had both been present at the ceremony, and had just
returned when he arrived.

"I guessed you would be off at once, Francisco, directly the ceremony
was over. I own that I, myself, would have stayed for a time to see the
grand doings in the Piazza, but this child would not hear of our doing
so. She said it would be a shame, indeed, if you should arrive home and
find no one to greet you."

"So it would have been," Giulia said. "I am sure I should not have
liked, when I have been away, even on a visit of pleasure to Corfu, to
return and find the house empty; and after the terrible dangers and
hardships you have gone through, Francisco, it would have been unkind,
indeed, had we not been here. You still look thin and worn."

"I think that is fancy on your part, Giulia. To my eyes he looks as
stout as ever I saw him. But certainly he looked as lean and famished
as a wolf, when I paid that visit to the camp the day before Zeno's
arrival. His clothes hung loose about him, his cheeks were hollow, and
his eyes sunken. He would have been a sight for men to stare at, had
not every one else been in an equally bad case.

"Well, I thank God there is an end of it, now! Genoa will be glad to
make peace on any terms, and the sea will once more be open to our
ships. So now, Francisco, you have done with fighting, and will be able
to turn your attention to the humbler occupation of a merchant."

"That will I right gladly," Francis said. "I used to think, once, I
should like to be a man-at-arms; but I have seen enough of it, and hope
I never will draw my sword again, unless it be in conflict with some
Moorish rover. I have had many letters from my father, chiding me for
mingling in frays in which I have no concern, and shall be able to
gladden his heart, by writing to assure him that I have done with
fighting."

"It has done you no harm, Francisco, or rather it has done you much
good. It has given you the citizenship of Venice, in itself no slight
advantage to you as a trader here. It has given you three hundred
ducats a year, which, as a mark of honour, is not to be despised. It
has won for you a name throughout the republic, and has given you a
fame and popularity such as few, if any, citizens of Venice ever
attained at your age. Lastly, it has made a man of you. It has given
you confidence and self possession. You have acquired the habit of
commanding men. You have