daughter, of Marietta's age,
and she was a cripple from birth. Marietta was fond of her, and it was a
relief to get away from Murano, even for half a day. The visit
explained well enough why her father had desired her to put on her best
gown and most valuable lace. She really had not the slightest idea that
anything more important was on foot.

Beroviero looked at her in silence as they sped along with the gently
rocking motion of the gondola, which is not exactly like any other
movement in the world. He had already noticed that she was paler than
usual, but the extraordinary whiteness of her skin made her pallor
becoming to her, and it was set off by the colour of her hair, as ivory
by rough gold. He wondered whether she had guessed whither he was taking
her.

"It is a long time since we were in Saint Mark's together," he said at
last.

"It must be more than a year," answered Marietta. "We pass it often, but
we hardly ever go in."

"It is early," observed Beroviero, speaking as indifferently as he
could. "When we left home it lacked an hour and a half of noon by the
dial. Shall we go into the church for a while?"

"If you like," replied Marietta mechanically.

Nothing made much difference that morning, but she knew that the high
mass would be over and that the church would be quiet and cool. It was
not at that time the cathedral of Venice, though it had always been the
church in which the doges worshipped in state.

They landed at the low steps in the Rio del Palazzo, and the servant
held out his bent elbow for Marietta to steady herself, though he knew
that she would not touch it, for she was light and sure-footed as a
fawn; but Beroviero leaned heavily on his man's arm. They came round
the Patriarch's palace into the open square, whence the crowd had nearly
all disappeared, dispersing in different directions. Just as they were
within sight of the great doors of the church, Beroviero saw a very tall
man in a purple silk mantle going in alone. It was Contarini, and
Beroviero drew a little sigh of relief. The intended bridegroom was
punctual, but Beroviero thought that he might have shown such anxiety to
see his bride as should have brought him to the door a few minutes
before the time.

Marietta had drawn her veil across her face, leaving only her eyes
uncovered, according to custom.

"It is hot," she complained.

"It will be cool in the church," answered her father. "Throw your veil
back, my dear--there