The crowd thickened as the day drew in, all the vast plains of the Padovano appearing to have given up their people to swell the numbers of those that rejoiced.  A few timid and irresolute masquers now began to appear in the throng, stealing a momentary pleasure under the favor of that privileged disguise, from out of the seclusion and monotony of their cloisters.  Next came the rich marine equipages of the accredited agents of foreign states, and then, amid the sound of clarions and the cries of the populace, the Bucentaur rowed out of the channel of the arsenal, and came sweeping to her station at the quay of St. Mark.

These preliminaries, which occupied some hours, being observed, the javelin-men, and others employed about the person of the head of the Republic, were seen opening an avenue through the throng.  After which, the rich strains of a hundred instruments proclaimed the approach of the Doge.

We shall not detain the narrative, to describe the pomp in which a luxurious and affluent aristocracy, that in general held itself aloof from familiar intercourse with those it ruled, displayed its magnificence to the eyes of the multitude, on an occasion of popular rejoicing.  Long lines of senators, dressed in their robes of office, and attended by crowds of liveried followers, came from under the galleries of the palace, and descended by the Giant’s Stairway into the sombre court.  Thence, the whole issued into the Piazzetta in order, and proceeded to their several stations on the canopied deck of the well known bark.  Each patrician had his allotted place, and before the rear of the cortege had yet quitted the quay, there was a long and imposing row of grave legislators seated in the established order of their precedency.  The ambassadors, the high dignitaries of the state, and the aged man who had been chosen to bear the empty honors of sovereignty, still remained on the land, waiting, with the quiet of trained docility, the moment to embark.  At this moment, a man of an embrowned visage, legs bare to the knee, and breast open to the breeze, rushed through the guards, and knelt on the stones of the quay at his feet.

“Justice!—­great prince!” cried the bold stranger; “justice and mercy!  Listen to one who has bled for St. Mark, and who hath his scars for his witnesses.”

“Justice and mercy are not always companions,” calmly observed he who wore the horned bonnet, motioning to his officious attendants to let the intruder stay.

“Mighty prince!  I come for the last.”

“Who and what art thou?”

“A fisherman of the Lagunes.  One named Antonio, who seeketh the liberty of the prop of his years—­a glorious boy, that force and the policy of the state have torn from me.”

“This should not be!  Violence is not the attribute of justice—­but the youth hath offended the laws, and he suffereth for his crimes?”

“He is guilty, Excellent and most Serene Highness, of youth, and health, and strength, with some skill in the craft of the mariner.  They have taken him, without warning or consent, for the service of the galleys, and have left me in my age, alone.”