“Thou hearest; alms are offered thee; but give place to those who are stronger and more seemly for the sport.”

“I will obey, as is the duty of one born and accustomed to poverty.  They said the race was open to all, and I crave the pardon of the nobles, since I meant to do them no dishonor.”

“Justice in the palace, and justice on the canals,” hastily observed the prince.  “If he will continue, it is his right.  It is the pride of St. Mark that his balances are held with an even hand.”

A murmur of applause succeeded the specious sentiment, for the powerful rarely affect the noble attribute of justice, however limited may be its exercise, without their words finding an echo in the tongues of the selfish.

“Thou hearest—­His Highness, who is the voice of a mighty state, says thou mayest remain;—­though thou art still advised to withdraw.”

“I will then see what virtue is left in this naked arm,” returned Antonio, casting a mournful glance, and one that was not entirely free from the latent vanity of man, at his meagre and threadbare attire.  “The limb hath its scars, but the infidels may have spared enough, for the little I ask.”

“In whom is thy faith?”

“Blessed St. Anthony, of the Miraculous Draught.”

“Take thy place.—­Ha! here cometh one unwilling to be known!  How now! who appears with so false a face?”

“Call me, Mask.”

“So neat and just a leg and arm need not have hid their follow, the countenance.  Is it your Highness’s pleasure that one disguised should be entered for the sports?”

“Doubt it not.  A mask is sacred in Venice.  It is the glory of our excellent and wise laws, that he who seeketh to dwell within the privacy of his own thoughts, and to keep aloof from curiosity by shadowing his features, rangeth our streets and canals as if he dwelt in the security of his own abode.  Such are the high privileges of liberty, and such it is to be a citizen of a generous, a magnanimous, and a free state.”

A thousand bowed in approbation of the sentiment, and a rumor passed from mouth to mouth that a young noble was about to try his strength in the regatta, in compliment to some wayward beauty.

“Such is justice!” exclaimed the herald, in a loud voice, admiration apparently overcoming respect, in the ardor of the moment.  “Happy is he that is born in Venice, and envied are the people in whose councils wisdom and mercy preside, like lovely and benignant sisters!  On whom dost thou rely?”

“Mine own arm.”

“Ha! this is impious!  None so presuming may enter into these privileged sports.”

The hurried exclamation of the herald was accompanied by a general stir, such as denotes sudden and strong emotion in a multitude.

“The children of the Republic are protected by an even hand,” observed the venerable prince.  “It formeth our just pride, and blessed St. Mark forbid that aught resembling vain-glory should be uttered! but it is truly our boast that we know no difference between our subjects of the islands or those of the Dalmatian coast; between Padua or Candia; Corfu or St. Giorgio.  Still it is not permitted for any to refuse the intervention of the saints.”