It was a name which the people
were accustomed to honor. "I Giustiniani!" they shouted.
There was a sudden hush, for the bells of the Campanile of San Marco
had given the signal, and there was a great stir before the Piazza--a
train of gondolas was sweeping into line far down the Canal Grande; the
guards on the watch-towers of the arsenal were full of animation; the
gondolas of the orderlies were buzzing like bees about the barge of the
grand admiral, who awaited the coming of the Doge, in all his
magnificence of satin ceremonial robes. He was like a noble to-day, this
man of the people. _Viva San Marco_!
The moment was approaching; orderlies glided back and forth among the
excited people, prescribing their distance; the raft of small craft
shifted its position and presently a salute was fired from all the
cannon of the arsenal; the Doge, in his great State barge, was near.
The people shouted themselves hoarse when the smoke cleared away and
revealed the splendid train of private barges from Venice; there were
banners of the Republic and streaming pennons of the nobles; the
gondoliers wore the colors of their house, and were welcomed by the
people on these days of pageant as a distinct addition to the glories of
the festa--though on other days the barcarioli of the traghetti poured
out full vials of contempt upon their sashes of rose and silver and the
blazonry of arms upon their silken sleeves.
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