“If any man here knows good reason why this new companion should not be one of us, let him show it now.”

Then all were silent, and uncovered their heads, but they still kept their masks on their faces.  Zorzi stood out before them, and Venier was close beside him.

“Make the sign of the Cross,” said Venier in a solemn tone, quite different from his ordinary voice, “and repeat the words after me.”

And Zorzi repeated them steadily and precisely, holding his hand stretched out before him.

“In the name of the Holy Trinity, I promise and swear to give life and fortune in the good cause of restoring the original liberty of the people of Venice, obeying to that end the decisions of this honourable society, and to bear all sufferings rather than betray it, or any of its members.  And I promise to help each one of my companions also in the ordinary affairs of life, to the best of my ability and fortune, within the bounds of reason, risking life and limb for the safety of each and all.  And I promise most especially to honour and respect the wives, the daughters and the betrothed brides of all who belong to this fellowship, and to defend them from harm and insult, even as my own mother.  And if I break any promise of this oath, may my flesh be torn from my limbs and my limbs from my body, one by one, to be burned with fire and the ashes thereof scattered abroad.  Amen.”

When Zorzi had said the last word, Venier grasped his hand, at the same time taking off the mask he wore, and he looked into the young man’s face.

“I am Zuan Venier,” he said, his indolent manner returning as he spoke.

“I am Jacopo Contarini,” said the master of the house, offering his hand next.

Zorzi looked first at one, and then at the other; the first was a very pale young man, with bright blue eyes and delicate features that were prematurely weary and even worn; Contarini was called the handsomest Venetian of his day.  Yet of the two, most men and women would have been more attracted to Venier at first sight.  For Contarini’s silken beard hardly concealed a weak and feminine mouth, with lips too red and too curving for a man, and his soft brown eyes had an unmanly tendency to look away while he was speaking.  He was tall, broad shouldered, and well proportioned, with beautiful hands and shapely feet, yet he did not give an impression of strength, whereas Venier’s languid manner, assumed as it doubtless was, could not hide the restless energy that lay in his lean frame.

One by one the other companions came up to Zorzi, took off their masks and grasped his hand, and he heard their lips pronounce names famous in Venetian history, Loredan, Mocenigo, Foscari and many others.  But he saw that not one of them all was over five-and-twenty years of age, and with the keenness of the waif who had fought his own way in the world he judged that these were not men who could overturn the great Republic