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Updated: May 19, 2025
"Like the Orseoli!" said Morosini Morosini, who was a friend of the Giustiniani, and who, like many another strong-brained Venetian, knew the taste of unsatisfied longings, yet kept a brave heart for the records of the Republic.
She knew her history well, and she realized that the days of the Michieli and Orseoli were over, and that the supreme honor was no longer for the strong but for the pliant; this had made her the more willing that her son should partake of the facile and gracious mood of this time of Renaissance, and had led her to shape his education more in consonance with his natural tastes than with her own views of fitness for a Venetian noble.
"Nay," said another speaker quickly, a friend to Morosini the historian for the Broglio had been known to have a voice as well as ears, and the subject was a dangerous one, not honorable to Venice "Nay, there are no Orseoli. But it is for honor to the Giustiniani that none hath been chosen for the Serenissimo.
And as he spoke there came to some of them who knew their annals well a stinging memory of the tale which was no legend of that pathetic group in their island sanctuary the brothers who were left, after the death of Otto, the exiled Doge, and of Orso, the noble bishop-prince, all of the house of Orseoli, who, with their abbess-sister Felicia, were wounded to the heart because for the crime of too great love and service the jealous and unrequiting Senate had banished them forever from the Venice so loyally served had decreed the extinction of a family to whom, as Doge and Patriarch, the Republic owed the wisest and most self-sacrificing of her rulers!
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