“Surely thou dost recall this breastplate of the General Taddeo Giustiniani, who forced the Austrians to surrender Trieste, when Venice laid siege to the city in 1369?  It was wrought in the East, no doubt, and the inlaying is of gold and precious; but not for this do we keep it chained.  It is a priceless jewel in the history of our house, for Trieste meant much for Venice.”

He raised the heavy chain that fastened it, and the links fell, clanging, against the stones of the wall; for this hall, which served as an armory, was like a prison in its construction,—­as strong and as forbidding,—­and here, among the ancestral relics, were kept the arms which every nobleman, by Venetian law, was required to hold in readiness to equip his household against uprisings of the populace, who were, by this same law, debarred these means of self-defense.

At a sign from the Senator a young squire came forward, proudly bearing a sword with a jeweled hilt, in an intricately wrought scabbard.  Giustinian drew it from its sheath, displaying a blade exquisitely damascened with acanthus foliage, as he turned to his son.

“This is especially thine own,” he said, “in honor of this day—­thy maiden sword.  So far as the handiwork of Cellini may make it worthy of a son of our house, it hath been worthily chosen for thee.  Yet, unless thou leavest it to those who come after thee, enriched by the name of a Giustinian who hath wrought of his best for Venice, it will be all unworthy of a place among these trophies.”

The torch-bearers flashed their lights over it, and the squires of the household pressed forward to admire it, but Giustinian cut short the enthusiastic chorus of the young men-at-arms and Marcantonio’s eager words of appreciation, crossing the sombre hall with stately steps; for to his mind this important day held many ceremonies yet unfulfilled, and the pomp with which he chose to surround them was not a circumstance to be dilated on.

“This,” he said, as he touched a quaint dagger, “belonged to thine ancestor, Marco Giustiniani, Ambassador to the Scaglieri; there were other envoys of our name in other Italian provinces, in England and the Papal Court, for we have been great in statescraft as well as in war.  But I wrong thee in seeming to think thou knowest not the history of thine house.  Perhaps, in these latter days, a man may best distinguish himself in statesmanship, for the mind is a weapon not to be slighted—­when it is builded with strength, sharpened with careful use, and so wielded”—­his gaze fell full upon Marcantonio for a weighty moment—­“so wielded that it hath no pliancy save at the will of its owner.  For sometimes it chanceth”—­again he paused for a moment—­“that a mind hath more masters than one, and Venice brooks no rival.”

His father had been pointing out one heirloom after another while he spoke, and the pauses which Marcantonio found irritating, because they seemed to indicate hidden meanings to be unraveled, might proceed only from his effort to carry several trains of thought at once; but it was a habit of the elder Giustinian which held not a less share in the education of his son because it was distasteful to him.