to be added to the
story of the Republic, and thither the feeble old Doge led the Daughter
of Venice with the brilliant assemblage who had witnessed the ceremony
of the Adoption in the Duomo.

Caterina had moved through the splendid pageant of the morning as in a
dream, still too much a child to comprehend the responsibilities it
portended--too much in awe of the distinguished company assembled to do
her honor to be conscious of any feeling but unwonted timidity. But the
tottering footsteps of the old man who held her hand as he led her
through the Porta della Carta into the Ducal Palace, awoke her inborn
sense of pity, and it was she who upheld him with her strong, young,
vital clasp, recovering her own perfect poise in the act of giving help.

The Ambassador Mastachelli was waiting with his suite, and the signing
of the parchment which bore the seals of Venice and of Cyprus was the
trifle of a moment. A circlet of rubies--the sign of the promise--had
been consecrated by the saintly Patriarch, Lorenzo Giustiniani, and the
Lady Fiorenza took comfort from the look in his noble face as he bent
over Caterina to give the benediction. She would seek his aid in the
training of the young betrothed for her life on that distant island.

But now--at last--the hour was the people's once more, for the
Serenissimo stood on the balcony above the portal of San Marco, between
the great golden horses, with the Daughter of Venice beside him--the
sunlight irradiating her white robes and beautiful, girlish face.

"Caterina--Regina--_Figlia di Venezia_--_Nostra Venezia_!" A great cry
rent the air; it came from thousands of hearts and thrilled her own to
its core, and the first, great emotion of her young life swept through
her, transforming and wholly possessing her.

A mist swam before her and her heart throbbed as if it would break: she
dimly saw innumerable faces leaning to her from roofs and balconies and
windows, and below in the great Piazza, the dense mass of the people
with faces offering love and homage, lifting their children to clap
their tiny hands for her--it was wonderful--beautiful--had the Madonna,
indeed, given her so much!

The mist cleared before her eyes and each face, to the remotest corners
of the Piazza stood out individualized, while a sudden great love of
humanity was born within her. "She would pray to make her people
happy--she would be something to the poor and suffering ones of her
distant land of Cyprus-