"Such is justice!" exclaimed the herald, in a loud voice, admiration apparently overcoming respect, in the ardor of the moment. "Happy is he that is born in Venice, and envied are the people in whose councils wisdom and mercy preside, like lovely and benignant sisters! On whom dost thou rely?"
"Mine own arm."
"Ha! this is impious! None so presuming may enter into these privileged sports."
The hurried exclamation of the herald was accompanied by a general stir, such as denotes sudden and strong emotion in a multitude.
"The children of the Republic are protected by an even hand," observed the venerable prince. "It formeth our just pride, and blessed St. Mark forbid that aught resembling vain-glory should be uttered! but it is truly our boast that we know no difference between our subjects of the islands or those of the Dalmatian coast; between Padua or Candia; Corfu or St. Giorgio. Still it is not permitted for any to refuse the intervention of the saints."
"Name thy patron, or quit the place," continued the observant herald, anew.
The stranger paused, as if he looked into his mind, and then he answered—
"San Giovanni of the Wilderness."
"Thou namest one of blessed memory!"
"I name him who may have pity on me, in this living desert."