“Will not my father some time come to the palazzo Giustiniani?  The Lady Marina would make him welcome.”

“Nay, I thank you,” the friar answered, instantly resuming his habitual reserve.  “Such gentle friendships form no part of my duty.  I spake but in friendly counsel.  We, from without, see how the home should be more.  The orders are many to maintain the Church—­they need no urging—­but the home hath also its privileged domain of childhood to be defended.”

XV

With the return of the young people from Rome, gala days had once more dawned for the Ca’ Giustiniani, and the two sumptuous palaces which met at the bend of the Canal Grande were scenes of perpetual fete.  The palazzo Giustinian Giustiniani had been chosen from all the princely homes of Venice as best fitted, from its magnificence, to be offered as a residence to Henry the Third of France, when that monarch had deigned to honor the Republic by accepting its prodigal hospitality.  In the banquet halls, which had been prepared with lavish luxury for his reception, the few years that had passed had but mellowed the elaborate carvings and frescoes, while the costly hangings—­of crimson velvet with bullion fringes, of azure silk embroidered with fleurs-de-lis, of brocades interwoven with threads of gold—­had gained in grace of fold and fusion of tints.

If there were no halls of equal splendor in the palace which had been prepared for Marcantonio and his bride, it displayed in all its appointments an elegance and fitness which the stately Lady Laura was eager to exhibit to the critical appreciation of the fastidious upper circle of Venice.

Marina had had no share in its decorations, and when consulted before her marriage had expressed but one wish.  “These cares of rank are new to me,” she had said, with gentle dignity; “but thou wilt best know how to choose the elegance befitting Marco’s home; for my father hath warned me that in these matters there is a custom which I, more than others, may not break.  Dear Lady Laura, for Marco’s sake forget that I am of the people, yet, remembering it, to choose but so much of splendor as seemeth needful, lest the palazzo be too costly for a mistress not noble by birth, and so”—­she hesitated—­“and so win Marco’s friends to love me less.”

“Marina, Marco hath told me, with a very lover’s face, that some are noble by birth who are not so by name.”

“Dear Lady,” the girl answered, with a charming flush, “had Marco not so plead with me there could have been no question of this home.”