on earth, with his own _magnum opus_ lying there
unfinished, yet far toward completion. And for one who had meant to
chronicle the complete history of a _movement_, who had sought ever to
weigh and sift in the interests of truth alone, to surrender the freedom
of his mind to the Senate--to come down to the teaching of a child--to
be commanded what he should speak--it was maddening!

"My own work," he murmured in a last appeal:--"I have so little time."

"The time of a Venetian is his best gift to the State," the Capo made
answer icily.

There was a pause during which the unwilling Secretary _felt_ the eyes
of the Capo upon him, forcing him to lift his own. For an instant he met
the strange fixed gaze which conveyed to him without words that what had
passed between them was to be held inviolate; then, with a courteous
salute, the man of power spoke:

"The interview is dismissed." And the Segretario Reale went out from the
presence, his soul revolting at the absolutism that forced him to
accept; and he despised himself.

* * * * *

Meanwhile the soul of the maiden was thrilling to the Patriarch's tales
of early Christian conquests in her islands--at Paphos--at Salamis--of
the miracles of the great Paulus, saint and bishop and leader--as her
eyes followed along the red-lettered parchment page of the rare volume
which the holy man had brought from the treasures of the "Marciana" for
her teaching--translating the story from the Greek, which was yet hard
for her, into her own softer tongue.

Cyprus had indeed been a favored land in those early days; for the Holy
Spirit had commanded by a revelation that Barnabas and Paulus should set
sail for Cyprus to preach the new faith at Salamis; and they had taken
with them Marcus--their own San Marco!--it was so written in this
strange, old book.

"Tell me about him!" Caterina cried, clasping her hands eagerly: "what
did he do in my land?"

Every Venetian was familiar with the Patron-Saint of Venice in his
symbolic guise, with his terrible, flashing jewelled eyes--as a power
who would guard them and confound their enemies, rather than as an
Evangelist--although the paw of the fierce Venetian lion rested always
on the open gospel-page. But to hear of him as a man, before he was
known as saint--young--'sister's son to Barnabas,' setting forth on this
mission to Cyprus, made him strangely real to the young Venetian girl;
it even brought Cyprus nea