When Marina reached her home she found it garlanded from column to
column with festal wreaths of green, while the maidens from the village
still lingered, veiling the walls between the windows with delicate
frosts of fruit-bloom from the gardens of Mazzorbo. And closely
following this village tribute came a priest from San Donato with the
band of white-robed nuns who formed the choir of the Matrice, bearing
perfumes of incense and benediction for the home of the bride, that all
who passed beneath its portal, going out or coming in, might carry
blessing with their steps.
In Venice also there were joy-bells ringing; and to overflowing tables,
spread in the water-storey of the Ca' Giustiniani, the people of Venice
were freely bidden by silken banners floating legends of welcome above
the open doorway. But now the expectant people were thronging the
Piazza; the _fondamenta_ along the Riva was alive with color, balconies
were brilliant with draperies, windows were glowing with vivid shawls,
rugs, brocades--tossed out to lean upon in the splendor that became a
fete; above them the spaces were crowded with enthusiastic spectators in
holiday dress; the children of the populace, shouting, ecstatic,
ubiquitous, swarmed on the quay below.
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