"Nay, but my _chosen_ bride--holding my vows with my heart; yet, unless
thou plead with me for my happiness she will not wed me--she is so
proud."
"Name her," the Lady Laura repeated, unbending slightly.
"Marina Magagnati."
She stood listening, as if more were to follow, then she shook her head.
"I know not the name, unless--but it is not possible! She is not of
Venice, then?"
"A Venetian of the Venetians, my mother, with the love of Venice in her
soul--but not----"
"Marcantonio, explain thine enigma! How should there be a name of all
our nobles unknown to me?"
"There are nobles of the 'Libro d'Oro,' my mother, and--nobles of the
people, and she is of these."
"How canst thou name a mesalliance to me--Marcantonio Giustiniani,
Nobile di Consiglio--on this day, when thou hast given thy vows to
Venice! Thou dost forget the traditions of thine house."
"Nay, mother; Venice and the Ca' Giustiniani I am not likely to forget,"
he answered, with sudden bitterness. "One thing--quite other--am I much
more likely to forget; but for this have I sworn, that which my heart
teaches me for noble will I do, and she whom I love will I wed--or none
other.
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