The eyes of the great lady beamed with a new and tender pride; in nothing that her boy had ever done for her had he offered her so much as in this love of his which had threatened to part them, but had stirred instead the mother depths of her soul, which had become clouded by years of luxury and artificial life and the knowledge of the ceaseless ambitions and selfish scheming which her husband—­for the intellectual stimulus she gave him—­had been accustomed to confide to her.  And now Marco was not less to her, but more, as he had promised; and if the uncertain hope of that dim, distant, ducal coronet moved her less, it was not that she would not still do her possible to help Giustinian to his ambition—­but it had become a smaller peak in the distance since the home life had grown broad enough to bear her calmly when the proud Senator rehearsed some failure or disappointment, with disproportioned bitterness.

Thinking of these things she smiled at Marina with new appreciation; the girl’s gentle face seemed to her more lovely and her rare calm and grace of spirit more truly noble than the Venetian vivacity of charm in which at first she had found her lacking.

“Thou hast a way of winning,” she said, “which many might envy thee; and in seeming not to ask, thou shalt be served for love.  It is the grace of one born to rule.  But hast thou no wish?  Is there no one place I may make all beautiful at thine asking, within thy palace, to prove, sweet Marina, how thy Marco’s mother loves thee?”

She parted her soft hair and kissed her forehead, but neither of them noticed that it was a first caress.

“I should like the oratory to be beautiful!” Marina cried, clasping her hands with sudden enthusiasm; “very beautiful—­like a gift to the Holy Mother!”

“And it shall bring a blessing on thy marriage,” the Lady Laura answered her.

So when the secretary and his young wife had returned to Venice and their palace was thrown open to guests, the private chapel of the Lady Marina was discovered to be a marvel of decoration—­with superb Venetian frescoes set in marvelous scrollwork by Vittoria, with carvings of mother-of-pearl from Constantinople, with every sumptuous detail that could be devised; for, during the three years of their absence, the Lady Laura had not wearied of her gracious task nor stayed her hand.  And into this incongruous setting—­costly, overloaded, composite, and destitute of true religious feeling, a very type of the time in Venice—­Marina brought the redeeming note of consecration, a priceless altar—­ancient, earth-stained, and rude, almost grotesque in symbolism—­as a great prize and by special dispensation, from an underground chapel in Rome.  Also the rare and beautiful ivory crucifix had its history; the malachite basin for holy water had been a gift to the infant Giustinian from his eminence the cardinal-sponsor on the day of his baptism; there were other treasures, more rare and sacred still, within the shrine of the oratory, and there was a gift from his Holiness Pope Clement VIII.