The marriage rites were celebrated by the good clavier, who, not content with persuading the baron to make this sacrifice of his prejudices, had asked permission to finish the work he had so happily commenced, by pronouncing the nuptial benediction.  Melchior de Willading listened to the short ceremony with silent self-approval.  He felt disposed at that instant to believe he had wisely sacrificed the interests of the world to the right, a sentiment that was a little quickened by the uncertainty which still hung over the origin of his new son, who might yet prove to be all that he could hope, as well as by the momentary satisfaction he found in manifesting his independence by bestowing the hand of his daughter upon one whose merit was so much better ascertained than his birth.  In this manner do the best deceive themselves, yielding frequently to motives that would not support investigation when they believe themselves the strongest in the right.  The good-natured clavier had observed the wavering and uncertain character of the baron’s decision, and he had been induced to urge his particular request to be the officiating priest by a secret apprehension that, descended again into the scenes of the world, the relenting father might become, like most other parents of these nether regions, more disposed to consult the temporal advancement than the true happiness of his child.

As one of the parties was a Protestant, no mass was said, an omission, however, that in no degree impaired the legal character of the engagement.  Adelheid plighted her unvarying love and fidelity with maiden modesty, but with the steadiness of a woman whose affections and principles were superior to the little weaknesses which, on such occasions, are most apt to unsettle those who have the least of either of these great distinctive essentials of the sex.  The vows to cherish and protect were uttered by Sigismund in deep manly sincerity, for, at that moment, he felt as if a life of devotion to her happiness would scarcely requite her single-minded, feminine, and unvarying truth.

“May God bless thee, dearest,” murmured old Melchior, as, bending over his kneeling child, he struggled to keep down a heart which appeared disposed to mount into his throat, in spite of its master’s inclinations; “bless thee—­bless thee, love, now and for ever.  Providence has dealt sternly with thy brothers and sisters, but in leaving thee it has still left me rich in offspring.  Here is our good friend, Gaetano, too—­his fortune has been still harder—­but we will hope—­we will hope.  And thou, Sigismund, now that Balthazar hath disowned thee, thou must accept such a father as Heaven sends.  All accidents of early life are forgotten, and Willading, like my old heart, hath gotten a new owner and a new lord!”

The young man exchanged embraces with the baron, whose character he knew to be kind in the main, and for whom he felt the regard which was natural to his present situation.  He then turned, with a hesitating eye, to the Signor Grimaldi.  The Doge succeeded his friend in paying the compliments of affection to the bride, and had just released Adelheid with a warm paternal kiss.