"'So he said, "If you have the necessary patience, gentlemen, I will at once give you the solution of the riddle, in the shape of the story of Falieri. The question is, have you the necessary patience? For I mean to be exceedingly circumstantial; because, were I not to be so, I should much prefer not to speak of these matters at all--though they are as vividly present to my eyes as if I had actually witnessed them. There is nothing strange in this; for every historian (and I am a historian) is a species of ghost, telling of things bygone."
"'The friends accompanied the stranger to a room at some little distance; where, without further prelude, he went on, as follows:--
"'"A long, long time ago--if I mistake not, it was in the month of August of the year 1354--the great Genoese General Paganino Doria had utterly routed the Venetians, and taken their town of Parenzo by storm. In the gulf, close before Venice, his well-manned galleys were cruizing up and down, like hungry beasts of prey running backwards and forwards, watching how best to grasp their quarry. Deadly terror took possession of the Signoria and populace. Everybody who could carry arms took to their weapons or to their oars. They collected their forces and treasure at the harbour of San Nicolo. Ships and trees were sunk, and chains fastened together, to block the passage against the enemy. Whilst the weapons and the armour clanged and clattered, and the heavy masses went thundering down into the sea, agents of the Signoria were to be seen on the Rialto wiping the perspiration from their pale foreheads, and offering, in hoarse accents and with distracted faces, cent, per cent. for ready cash; for even of that the troubled republic was in urgent need. But it was decreed in the mysterious councils of Eternal Providence that just at this season of the extremest trouble and necessity the faithful shepherd of this distracted flock should be taken away from them. The Doge, Andrea Dandulo, whom his people styled 'The dear little Count' (Il caro Contino)--because he was always kind and good, and never crossed the square of San Marco without being prepared with money or good advice for all who needed either--died, worn out by fatigue and anxiety. And as those who are disheartened by misfortune feel doubly every blow, which at another time they would scarcely notice, the people were overwhelmed with sorrow when they heard the bells of San Marco announcing in hollow tones of sadness the death of their ruler. Their hope and stay was gone; they cried aloud that they would have to bow their necks to the yoke of Genoa; although, as concerned the warlike operations, the death of Dandulo did not seem such a great disaster. For the little Count liked to live in peace and comfort; he was fonder of watching the mysterious courses of the stars than of studying the enigmatic turnings and windings of statecraft; he knew better how to duly order an Easter procession than how to lead an army to battle. The desideratum now was the choice of a Doge who should possess both the generalship and the diplomatic skill necessary to rescue Venice from the clutches of her enemy, more daring every day and hour. The Senators met; but nothing was seen save troubled faces, eyes fixed on the ground, and heads leaned on the hand. Where should a man be found capable of grasping the helm with vigorous, strenuous hand, and steering the vessel of the State safe through the storm?
"'At length the oldest of the senators, Marino Bodoeri, began to speak.
"'"Here," he said, "around us or about us, he is not to be found. But turn your eyes to Avignon, to Marino Falieri, whom we sent to congratulate Pope Innocent on his election. He might be better employed now. If we make him Doge he will weather this storm. You will say he is well on to his eightieth year, with his hair and his beard turned to silver; that his vigorous aspect, his gleaming eyes, and the rosy tint of his nose and cheeks are due (as evil tongues choose to say) more to good Cyprus wine than to toughness of constitution. What matter! Remember the brilliant courage he displayed when he was Proveditor of the Black Sea Fleet. Think of the deserts which moved the procurators of San Marco to reward him with the rich Countship of Valdemarino."
"'Thus did Bodoeri paint Falieri's merits in the most brilliant colours, and refute, in advance, all objections to him, till every vote was at length given in his favour. It is true many had a good deal to say of his violent temper, his lust for power, and his self-will. But on the other hand it was urged, "It is because all that has, in his old age, passed away from him that we choose the aged--not the youthful--Falieri." Hostile voices such us these fell silent as soon as the populace, on hearing of his election, broke forth into boundless rejoicing. In time of danger, disquiet, and anxiety, any decision, so long as it is a decision, is looked upon as a divine inspiration.
"'So the "dear little Count," with all his gentleness and kindliness, was clean forgotten, and everybody cried:
"'"By Saint Mark, this Marino ought to have been our Doge long ago; and then we should not have had this presumptuous Doria upon our shoulders." And maimed soldiers held up their arms, and cried:
"'"This is that Falieri who vanquished Morbassan; this is the valiant leader whose victorious banners waved in the breezes of the Black Sea." Wherever the populace were collected some one would tell of old Falieri's heroic deeds; the sky rang with wild shouts of joy, as if Doria were beaten already. Moreover, Nicolo Pisani (who--heaven only knew why--had sailed quietly off to Sardinia, instead of going with his fleet to encounter Doria) came back at last. Doria withdrew from the gulf; and what the return of Pisani's fleet had effected was unanimously ascribed to the terrible name "Falieri." The populace and the Signoria were seized by a sort of fanatical ecstasy at the fortunate selection; and it was determined that the new Doge should be welcomed on his arrival as if he were some messenger of heaven bringing with him honour, wealth, and victory. The Signoria sent twelve nobles, each escorted by a numerous and brilliant retinue, to Verona, where the envoys of the Republic were to announce to Falieri, on his arrival, his elevation to the leadership of the State. Fifteen richly decorated galleys, prepared for the occasion by the Podesta of Chioggia, and under command of his son, Taddeo Giustiniani, received the Doge and his following at Chiozzo. He thence proceeded to St. Clemens (where the Bucentoro was waiting for him) in a triumphal procession like those of the mightiest and most victorious monarchs.
"Just at this time, namely, when Marino Falieri was about to step on board the Bucentoro (and this was on the evening of the third of October, as the sun was beginning to set), a poor unfortunate fellow was lying stretched out upon the marble pavement under the pillars of the Palace. A few rags of striped canvas, whose colour had ceased to be distinguishable, and which seemed to have belonged to a costume such as the commonest sort of boatmen and porters wear, hung about his attenuated limbs. Nothing in the nature of a shirt was visible save the poor fellow's own skin, which peeped out everywhere, but was so fine and white and delicate that the very noblest in the land might have displayed it without shyness or shame. Also the very leanness of his limbs set off the pureness of their symmetry. And when one saw the bright chestnut locks, all wild and dishevelled, which shaded the beautiful forehead; the blue eyes, darkened only by comfortless poverty; the aquiline nose; the delicately formed mouth, of this unfortunate, it was clear that it must have been some most adverse fate which had sent this well-born stranger crashing down in amongst the lower classes of the people.