They landed at the low steps in the Rio del Palazzo, and the servant
held out his bent elbow for Marietta to steady herself, though he knew
that she would not touch it, for she was light and sure-footed as a
fawn; but Beroviero leaned heavily on his man's arm. They came round
the Patriarch's palace into the open square, whence the crowd had nearly
all disappeared, dispersing in different directions. Just as they were
within sight of the great doors of the church, Beroviero saw a very tall
man in a purple silk mantle going in alone. It was Contarini, and
Beroviero drew a little sigh of relief. The intended bridegroom was
punctual, but Beroviero thought that he might have shown such anxiety to
see his bride as should have brought him to the door a few minutes
before the time.
Marietta had drawn her veil across her face, leaving only her eyes
uncovered, according to custom.
"It is hot," she complained.
"It will be cool in the church," answered her father. "Throw your veil
back, my dear--there is no one to see you."
"There is the sun," she said, for she had been taught that one of a
Venetian lady's chief beauties is her complexion.
"Well, well--there will be no sun in the church." And the old man
hurried her in, without bestowing a glance upon the bronze horses over
the door, to admire which he generally stopped a few moments in passing.
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