A VENETIAN JUN 
 
GIFT OF 
 THOMAS RUTHERFORD BACOfc 
 
 RARV 
 
7l*K*+< 
 
BY ANNA FULLER, 
 pratt portraits. 
 
 Sketched in a New England Suburb. Ninth 
 edition, 16", paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.00 
 
 B 2Literar Courtsbip. 
 
 Under the Auspices of Tike s Peak. Thir 
 teenth edition. Illustrated. 18. |i.oo 
 
 peafe anD prairie. 
 
 From a Colorado Sketch-Book. Third edi 
 tion uniform with " A Literary Court 
 ship," with frontispiece. 18 . $1.00 
 
 B Venetian 5une. 
 
 Uniform with "A Literary Courtship," 
 illustrated by George Sloane. 18. $1.00 
 
 G. T. PUTNAM S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK AND LONDON 
 
Ube Salute 
 
H Venetian 
 
 Bmta jfuller 
 
 AUTHOR OF "PRATT PORTRAITS," "A LITERARY COURTSH1 
 ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY GKORGE SLOAN E 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK LONDON 
 
 27 West Twenty-third Street 24 Bedford Street, Strand 
 
 Ube Ikmcfccrbocher press 
 
 1896 
 
TO 
 
 ELENA 
 
 272559 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. VENICE ........ i 
 
 II. A VENETIAN THOROUGHFARE . . 10 
 
 III. A PAIR OF POLLYS ...... 21 
 
 IV. A REVERIE 33 
 
 V. THE SIGNORA ....... 43 
 
 VI. A FESTA 58 
 
 VII. - GATHERING POPPIES 82 
 
 VIII. THE PULSE OF THE SEA ... .104 
 
 IX. BY-WAYS OF VENICE ..... 125 
 
 X. A BENEDICTION 140 
 
 XI. AT TORCELLO 159 
 
 XII. A PROMOTION 174 
 
 XIII. ILLUMINATIONS 193 
 
 XIV. A SUMMER S DAY 215 
 
 XV. JUNE ROSES ,..,... 235 
 
 XVI. A SURRENDER ....... 249 
 
 XVII. THE SERENATA ...... 265 
 
 XVIII. SEARCH-L/IGHTS 281 
 
 XIX. " DECUS ET PRAESIDIUM " . . 297 
 
B Venetian $une 
 
 ing walls and under low arched bridges, 
 as the deep resonant cry of the gondo 
 lier rang out, and an answer came like an 
 echo from the hidden recesses of a mys 
 terious watery crossway, the spirit of 
 Venice drew near to the three travellers, 
 in whose minds its strange and exquisite 
 suggestion was received with varying 
 susceptibility. 
 
 To Pauline Beverly, sitting enthroned 
 among the gondola cushions, this was 
 the fulfilment of a dream, and she ac 
 cepted it with unquestioning delight ; her 
 sister May, at the bar of whose youthful 
 judgment each wonder of Europe was in 
 turn a petitioner for approval, bestowed 
 a far more critical attention upon the 
 time-worn palaces and the darkly doubt 
 ful water at their base ; while to Uncle 
 Dan, sitting stiffly upright upon the little 
 one-armed chair in front of them, Venice, 
 though a regularly recurrent experience, 
 was also a memory, a memory fraught 
 with some sort of emotion, if one might 
 judge by the severe indifference which 
 
Denice ! 3 
 
 the old soldier brought to bear upon the 
 situation. 
 
 Colonel Steele was never effusive, yet a 
 careful observer might have detected in 
 his voice and manner as he gave his or 
 ders to the gondolier, the peculiar cut- 
 and-dried quality which he affected when 
 he was afraid of being found out. Care 
 ful observers are, however, rare, and we 
 may be sure that on their first day in 
 Venice his two companions had other 
 things to think of than the unobtrusive 
 moods of a life-long uncle. 
 
 Suddenly the gondola swung out again 
 upon the Grand Canal, a little below the 
 Rialto bridge, and again all was light 
 and life and movement. Steamboats plied 
 up and down with a great puffing and 
 snorting and a swashing about of the 
 water, gondolas and smaller craft rising 
 and falling upon their heaving wake ; 
 heavily laden barges, propelled by long- 
 poles whose wielders walked with bare 
 brown feet up and down the gunwale in 
 the performance of their labor, progressed 
 
tPerietfan 
 
 slowly and stolidly, never yielding an 
 inch in their course to the importunities 
 of shouting gondolier or shrieking steam- 
 whistle. Here the light shell of a yellow 
 sandolo .shot by, there a black-hooded 
 gondola crept in and out among the 
 more impetuous water-folk. Over yon 
 der the stars-and-stripes floated from a 
 slim black prow, a frank, out-spoken 
 note of color that had its own part to play 
 among the quieter yet richer hues of the 
 scene. It was like an instantaneous 
 transition from twilight to broad day, 
 from the remote past to the busy present, 
 whose children, even in Venice, must be 
 fed and clothed and transported from 
 place to place. 
 
 "Yes, that is the Rialto," said Uncle 
 Dan, rousing to the contemplation of a 
 good substantial fact. " It s everywhere 
 in Venice. You re always coining out 
 upon it, especially when you have been 
 rowing straight away from it." 
 
 " What a pity it should be all built 
 over on top ! said May, knitting her 
 
IDenice ! 5 
 
 smooth young brow, as if, forsooth, 
 wrinkles did not come fast enough with 
 out the aid of any gratuitous concern for 
 the taste of a bygone century. 
 
 " But just look at the glorious arch of 
 it underneath ! " cried Pauline. " Who 
 cares what is on top ? And besides," she 
 declared, after a moment s reflection, " I 
 like it all !" 
 
 Has Venice changed much, Uncle 
 Dan ? asked May. 
 
 " Venice ? " Uncle Dan replied. " Ve 
 nice doesn t change. It s the rest of 
 us that do that ! " and just at that mo 
 ment the gondola turned out of the 
 Grand Canal into another narrow, shad 
 owy water-way. Here and there, above 
 the dark current, a bit of color caught 
 the eye ; a pot of geranium on a window- 
 ledge ; a pair of wooden shutters painted 
 pink ; a blue apron hung out to dry. On 
 a stone bridge, leaning against the iron 
 railing, stood a woman in a sulphur shawl, 
 gazing idly at the approaching gondola. 
 Scarlet, pink, blue, sulphur ; how these 
 
B \Denetian $une 
 
 unrelated bits of color were blended and 
 absorbed in the pure poetry of the pic 
 ture ! 
 
 " How wonderful it is, when things 
 come true ! Pauline exclaimed. Things 
 you have dreamed of all your life, till 
 they have come to seem less real than the 
 things you never dreamed of at all ! I 
 think I must have known that that wo 
 man in the sulphur shawl would be stand 
 ing on that bridge, gazing upon us with 
 her great tragic eyes ; so that somehow 
 it seems as if she might have been a 
 mere apparition." 
 
 " I think it very likely, for I am sure 
 she has always been there when I have 
 passed," said Uncle Dan, with conviction. 
 
 "I didn t see anything tragic about 
 her eyes," May objected. "I thought 
 she looked rather stupid, as if she had 
 forgotten what she came out for. 
 
 " Which was probably the case," Un 
 cle Dan admitted. Whence it will be 
 seen that Uncle Dan, gallant officer in 
 the past and practical man of affairs to- 
 
IDenice ! 7 
 
 day, was as wax in the hands of his 
 nieces, equally ready to agree with 
 each. 
 
 Yet Colonel Steele had not the appear 
 ance of a man of wax. On the contrary, 
 his spare, wiry figure was full of vigor, 
 his glance was as keen and his speech as 
 imperative as that of the veriest martinet. 
 He had commanded men in his day ; he 
 had fought the stern persistent fight of a 
 good soldier, and if, when the great cause 
 was won, he had hung up his sword and 
 sash and laid aside his uniform, he had 
 yet never succeeded in looking the civil 
 ian, and his military title had clung to 
 him through thirty years of practical life. 
 Furthermore, if it must be admitted that 
 he looked somewhat older than his sixty 
 years, that fact was not to be accounted 
 for by any acknowledged infirmity, un 
 less, indeed, the stiff leg he had brought 
 with him from his four years service 
 should be reckoned as such. 
 
 " But you like it, May ? " 
 
 It was Pauline who asked, and she put 
 
8 B Venetian June 
 
 the question as if she valued her sister s 
 opinion. 
 
 "Yes," May answered, in her most 
 judicial manner; "I like it. As you 
 say, it is very much what one expected. 
 But of course it is rather early to judge 
 yet." 
 
 As if to refute this cautious statement, 
 the gondola quietly glided out again upon 
 the Grand Canal, in full face of a great 
 white dome, rising superbly from a sculp 
 tured marble octagon against a radiant 
 sky. Sky and dome and sculptured fig 
 ure, each cast its image deep down in the 
 tranquil waters at its base, where, as it 
 chanced, no passing barge or steamboat 
 was shivering it to fragments. 
 
 "Ah!" said Pauline, with inarticu 
 late eloquence. 
 
 "That is the Salute," Uncle Dan re 
 marked ; while May wondered how she 
 liked it. 
 
 Half-a-dozen strokes of the oar brought 
 them in among the tall, shielding posts, 
 close alongside the steps of the Venezia. 
 
Venice ! 
 
 As the hotel porter handed the young 
 ladies from the gondola, the Colonel 
 paused to have a word with the gondo 
 lier. The man was standing, hat in 
 hand, keeping the oar in gentle motion 
 to counteract the force of the tide, which 
 was setting strongly seaward. 
 
 " Si, Signore ! " he answered. 
 
 "Why!" May exclaimed, "I had 
 forgotten all about the man ! 
 
If, B Venetian 
 ftborougbfare. 
 
 ; TTO the bankers , Vitto 
 | ** rio." 
 
 "Si, Signore. Will the 
 Signore go by the Grand 
 Canal?" 
 
 "By all means. And 
 ~~~ don t hurry. There is 
 "plenty of time." 
 
 "Si, Signore ! The bank 
 will wait ! 
 
 The little jest fell as soothingly familiar 
 upon the ear of Vittorio s one passenger 
 as the dip of the oar or the bell of San 
 Giorgio Maggiore sounding across the 
 harmonizing water spaces. And yet the 
 10 
 
Venetian Gborousbf are n 
 
 Colonel was only half aware that every 
 word, every inflection of the little dia 
 logue had passed between them on just 
 such an afternoon in May five years ago, 
 and again five years before that, if the 
 truth must be told. 
 
 They were passing the charming little 
 Gothic palace known as the House of 
 Desdemona, and we may be pretty sure 
 that the two little stone girls that keep 
 watch there upon the corners of the bal 
 cony railing, were reminded by these 
 words that another lustre had slipped by 
 since last they heard them. If they were 
 as observant as they should have been, 
 considering that they had nothing to 
 occupy them but the use of their eyes and 
 ears, they must have noted the fact that 
 while the soldierly figure of the old gen 
 tleman had not grown a whit less erect, 
 the many wrinkles upon his clean-cut 
 countenance were perceptibly deepened 
 in the interval. A curious effect of years, 
 those hard-headed little images must 
 have thought. They could perceive no 
 
12 B Venetian June 
 
 such change in one another s counte 
 nances, though they had witnessed the 
 passage of several centuries. But then, 
 the little stone girls had one marked 
 advantage over people of flesh and blood, 
 for they stopped short off at the shoulders. 
 Their creator having made no provision 
 for a heart in their constitutions, they 
 could never grow old, any more than 
 they could ever have been truly young. 
 The tide was still going out, and the 
 gondola moved very slowly up-stream. 
 The Colonel was silent, as he had been 
 silent during the passage of this particu 
 lar part of the Canal once in five years 
 since ever so long ago. Presently the 
 gondola, in its leisurely progress came 
 opposite a pretty old palace with charm 
 ing rose windows to give it distinction. 
 There were flower-boxes in the balcony, 
 and other signs of habitation, and the 
 Colonel, quite as if he were rousing from 
 a reverie, and casting about for some 
 thing to say, turned half-way toward the 
 gondolier and asked: "The Signora 
 Daymond, is she here this season ? 
 
B tDenetian tTborousbfare 13 
 
 "Si, Signore ; and her Signer son is 
 also in Venice." 
 
 This last statement formed a new de 
 parture, the "Signer son" having been 
 absent on the occasion of the Colonel s 
 more recent visits. The announcement 
 excited in him a curious and quite un 
 founded resentment. Indeed, so disturb 
 ing was it, not because of any inherent 
 objectionableness, but because of its im 
 plication of a change, that the Colonel 
 found himself quite thrown out of his 
 accustomed line of procedure. That this 
 was the case was made manifest by the 
 fact that he did not adhere so far to 
 established precedent as to wait until 
 after they had passed under the iron 
 bridge before looking quite round into 
 Vittorio s face and asking : " All is well 
 at the little red house ? The wife and 
 the children? " 
 
 "All well, Signore ; only the mother 
 died last winter." 
 
 Your wife s mother, I think it was ? 
 "Si, Signore ; she died in February." 
 One less mouth to feed, the Colonel 
 
14 B Venetian 5une 
 
 thought to himself; and perhaps the 
 thought was apparent to the quick per 
 ception of the gondolier, although the 
 padrone only remarked : " An old woman 
 she must have been." 
 
 For Vittorio s face grew wistful, and 
 there was a tone of gentle reproach in his 
 voice, as he said : We should like well 
 to have the mother with us again." 
 
 4 Of course, of course!" the Colonel 
 assented, eager to disclaim his unspoken 
 disloyalty. And Nanni ? What do you 
 hear from him? " 
 
 He is paying us a visit, the first in 
 three years. He does not forget the old 
 life, and when the Milan doctors told him 
 he must take a long rest, that he needed 
 a change, he said : I know it ; I need to 
 feel an oar in my hand and the leap of 
 the gondola under my feet. " 
 
 1 And does he row ? 
 
 " Si, Signore. He has an old tub of a 
 gondola and he paddles about in it all 
 day long and is content as the king. 
 More content, for he is doing what he 
 
Venetian Gborougbfare 15 
 
 pleases, and the king, it is said that he 
 cannot always do as he pleases. If he 
 could we should be better governed." 
 
 A puzzled scowl contracted the fine 
 open brow of the gondolier. That a 
 king should not do as he pleased was as 
 puzzling as it was grievous. 
 
 " He is doing well, Nanni ? " 
 
 "Si, Sign ore, benissimo ; and yet he 
 loves the gondola and the old life." 
 
 The Colonel drew his brows together 
 as if the statement had not given him 
 unmixed pleasure. "Do you think he 
 is ever sorry for the education and the 
 change ? " he asked. 
 
 "Sorry? Oh, no! His profession is 
 his life. Even here when he ought to 
 rest, he goes again and again to the 
 Scuola di San Marco, the great hospital, 
 to see the sick people and talk with the 
 doctors. Signore," and Vittorio s voice 
 sank to a stage whisper: "Nanni is 
 writing a book. It is about the sanita 
 tion of the houses." 
 
 The gondolier had stepped forward 
 
16 B tDenettan 3utie 
 
 close behind the cushioned seat, and was 
 stooping, with bended knee, his head 
 almost on a level with the padrone s. 
 Keeping the oar constantly in motion, 
 and with an occasional deft turn of the 
 wrist to avoid a collision, for the Grand 
 Canal was a crowded thoroughfare at this 
 hour, he nevertheless seemed to have 
 eyes only for the erect figure and the 
 grizzled head of his old friend. 
 
 " Our benefactor does not permit us to 
 speak to him of what is in our hearts," 
 he said, in his stately Italian ; and again 
 his voice dropped, and this time to a 
 wonderfully melodious tone: "But the 
 Madonna listens to us every morning and 
 every evening. We all remember the 
 padrone, even \he piccolo Gioranni, whom 
 he has never seen." 
 
 A look of comical deprecation crossed 
 the face of the passenger, and he said, 
 rather abruptly : I hope Nanni is good 
 to the rest of you." 
 
 "Si, Signore ; Nanni is a good brother ; 
 but we are many and he is not rich. 
 
Venetian tTbovoiujbfare 17 
 
 Ecco ! The gondola of the Signora Day- 
 inond. Will the Signore speak with 
 her?" 
 
 " Not to-day," the Colonel answered, 
 hastily ; and in another instant, before 
 the occupants of the other boat had looked 
 in their direction, Vittorio had stepped 
 back to his post at the stern, and had 
 given a twist of the oar that .sent the 
 gondola straight across the prow of a 
 steamboat coming down-stream. 
 
 Lungo ! he shouted, as peremptorily 
 as if the great puffing interloper had been 
 a tiny sandolo, and the big boat actually 
 did slow up a bit, while Vittorio swiftly 
 rounded it, thus placing its great hull 
 between his own and the Signora s gon 
 dola. 
 
 You re a good oarsman, Vittorio," 
 \\iepadrone remarked. " I always said 
 that I should like to cross the ocean with 
 you." 
 
 I would rather the Signore stayed 
 here," Vittorio exclaimed, while a flash 
 ing smile lit up his handsome face ; "I 
 
1 8 B Venetian 5une 
 
 would rather the Signore took a little 
 palace and stayed here in Venice ! " 
 
 Before the Signore had had time to 
 give this time-honored proposition the 
 consideration which it merited, the gon 
 dola was lying alongside the steps at the 
 bankers door, and his attention was 
 distracted by a very ragged, but seraphi- 
 cally beautiful urchin, who was excitedly 
 wriggling his body through the railing of 
 the adjoining ferry-landing, with a view 
 to pressing his services upon the foreign 
 gentleman. His efforts were finally suc 
 cessful, and when, a few minutes latter, 
 the Colonel emerged from the doorway, 
 he found his entry into the gondola 
 relieved of all supposititious perils by the 
 application of five very brown bare toes 
 to the gunwale. As he placed his penny 
 in the tattered hat of his small preserver, 
 he bestowed upon him a smile so benig 
 nant that all the rival ragamuffins assem 
 bled upon the ferry -landing took heart of 
 hope and shouted, as one boy : " Un 
 soldino, Signor ! Un soldino ! " 
 
B Venetian tTborougbf are 19 
 
 Vittorio, with a look of superb scorn, 
 calculated to convince the uninitiated 
 that he himself had never been a Venetian 
 ragamuffin, gave three long strokes of 
 the oar, which sent the gondola far out 
 upon the Canal, well beyond the reach of 
 such importunities. 
 
 "To the hotel, Signore ? " 
 
 " Yes ; the young ladies will be ready 
 to go out by this time. They are my 
 nieces, Vittorio." 
 
 " And is it their first visit in Venice? " 
 
 " Yes ; we have spent the winter in 
 Italy, and we left the best for the last." 
 
 The Signore still loves Venice ? 
 
 "Better than any spot in the world. 
 We will take the short cut home, Vit 
 torio." 
 
 Then Vittorio, with the deep joy which 
 may hide in the hearts of other men, but 
 never shines in full radiance upon any 
 but an Italian face, turned the gondola 
 into the same narrow rio through which 
 he had rowed his passengers from the 
 station earlier in the day. 
 
20 B Venetian 5unc 
 
 The Colonel had caught the flash in the 
 dark face, and his own countenance had 
 assumed an answering mobility. The 
 tension of his first hours in Venice was 
 apt to yield, though not usually as early 
 as this. But then, he had never before 
 .had the pleasure of his two precious 
 Pollys in anticipation. As the gondola 
 drew near a certain stone bridge guarded 
 by an iron railing, the sight of a woman 
 in a sulphur shawl, lingering there to 
 speak with a neighbor, gave him a remi 
 niscent sense of amused gratification. 
 
 Presently they came round in front of 
 the I r cnczia, and Uncle Dan looked up to 
 a certain high balcony, whence his com 
 ing was hailed by a lively flutter of hand 
 kerchiefs. 
 
 Ecco, my nieces ! " he remarked to 
 Yittorio, with ill-suppressed pride of 
 ownership ; a claim, be it observed, which 
 the two Pollys w r ould have been inclined 
 to dispute ; since, according to their own 
 faith and practice, it was they who owned 
 Uncle Dan ! 
 
U1I1L B pair of 
 
 /"E minutes later Uncle Dan and his 
 two Pollys were once more afloat, a 
 beatific company. Their graceful craft 
 dipped and courtesied to the stroke of the 
 oar as it glided swiftly with the out-going 
 tide, past the gilt ball of the custom 
 house, past the royal gardens and the 
 Piazzetta and the Doge s Palace, past the 
 red tower of San Giorgio, on and on, far 
 out upon the wide lagoons. Pauline, 
 sitting beside her uncle among the cush 
 ions of state, was so absorbed in the mere 
 joy of this gliding, rhythmic motion, 
 that she scarcely paid due deference to 
 the wonders of the Piazzetta, past which 
 they fared so swiftly. Yes ; there were 
 
22 B Venetian 3une 
 
 the famous pillars of Saint and L,ion, and 
 there, beyond the Ducal Palace, was a 
 passing glimpse of San Marco. It was 
 as it should be, this delightful verifica 
 tion of travellers tales ; she could afford 
 to hold all that in reserve. But just to 
 day, just at this moment, she only wanted 
 to watch the slender prow, skimming the 
 wonderful opaline waters, drawing ever 
 nearer to those mystic islands floating 
 over yonder like a dream within a dream. 
 She wondered vaguely at May s vivid 
 alertness ; for her sister, claiming the 
 privilege of youth, was enjoying the 
 freedom of the gondola, perching here 
 and there as her fancy prompted, in the 
 ample forward space, that nothing might 
 escape her eager, critical attention. 
 
 " How queer of them to have put those 
 two windows out of line!" May ex 
 claimed, fixing upon the water-front of 
 the Ducal Palace a glance of disapproval 
 beneath which the stately old pile blushed 
 rosy red. At least it was at that moment 
 that she first observed the pinkness of its 
 
B {pair ot pollgs 23 
 
 complexion. " But it s a lovely color," 
 she hastened to admit; and those columns 
 in the second story are perfectly dear." 
 
 "They have been a good deal ad 
 mired," Uncle Dan observed dryly, yet 
 with a friendly twinkle that flickered 
 over into the crow s-feet which were such 
 an important feature of his equipment as 
 uncle. And May, nothing daunted, pur 
 sued her own train of thought with 
 unflagging spirit. 
 
 "Vittorio, which way is the Lido?" 
 she asked presently, in her crispest Ital 
 ian. She was sitting on the carpeted 
 steps at the prow, w r hence she had been 
 regarding, with a quite impersonal inter 
 est, the swaying motion of the supple, 
 picturesque figure at the oar. She was 
 not sure that she altogether approved of 
 the broad white straw hat, with flutter 
 ing ends of blue ribbon, nor of the blue 
 woolen sash with its white fringe which 
 waved back and forth as its wearer trod 
 the deck ; but these were minor details, 
 and the total effect was undeniably good. 
 
2 4 B Venetian 5une 
 
 Vittorio, accustomed to that particular 
 kind of attention which the tourist be 
 stows impartially upon man or gondola, 
 the briccoli whose clustering posts mark 
 the channels in the lagoon, or the towers 
 of the mad-house rising from yonder 
 island, had continued his unswerving 
 gaze straight over the head of the Sig- 
 norina. At the sound of his name his 
 bearing changed. Lifting his hat, he 
 took a step forward, and, still plying the 
 oar with his right hand, he said : " Over 
 yonder is Sant Klisabetta del Lido, where 
 the tourists go. But the Lido reaches 
 for miles between us and the sea, as the 
 Signore will tell you," he added, witli 
 the careful deference that the Colonel 
 knew so well. 
 
 The familiar voice of the gondolier, 
 striking across his meditations, had a 
 singular effect upon the Colonel. It 
 made him aware that this was a differ 
 ent Venice from the one which Vittorio 
 had been wont to show him. What had 
 become of the pensive quality of the at- 
 
21 pair ot ipollgs 25 
 
 mosphere, the brooding melancholy of 
 its impression upon him ? Where, he 
 wondered, half- resentfully, was the dim 
 oppression, the subtle pain he had here 
 tofore associated with these tranquil 
 water spaces? What witch-work were 
 those girls playing with the traditions 
 of twenty-five years ? He glanced from 
 one to the other of their unconscious 
 faces, each absorbed after its own fash 
 ion. After all, it was pleasant to look 
 upon the world through young eyes. 
 No fear but the old preoccupation would 
 reassert itself in due time. But some 
 how his mind declined to concern itself 
 with that just now, and with a half hu 
 morous deprecation, he resumed his con 
 templation of his two Pollys. 
 
 His claim to such a unique possession 
 formed in itself an achievement upon 
 which the Colonel prided himself not a 
 little. He often recalled his chagrin 
 when his sister Mary, Polly as he, and 
 he alone had called her, failed to give 
 her eldest daughter her own name. How 
 
26 B Venetian 5une 
 
 could he, a totally inexperienced uncle, 
 enter into satisfactory relations with a 
 young person encumbered with the stately 
 cognomen of Pauline ? She was sure to be 
 haughty and unapproachable. No won 
 der that she puckered up her face in hos 
 tile protest as often as he offered her a 
 perfunctory salutation. He was becom 
 ing fairly afraid of the little month-old 
 personage, when one day, he hit upon 
 the reassuring device of turning Pauline, 
 with all its conservative dignity, into 
 Polly. If the testimony of a gentleman 
 and an officer was to be relied upon, their 
 good understanding dated from that hour. 
 For Uncle Dan was willing to take his 
 oath that the very day on which the two 
 soft, ingratiating syllables fell upon the 
 small pink ear, the small pink face re 
 laxed into an expression of kindly toler 
 ance, blossoming out a few days later, 
 into that ecstatic first smile which had 
 sealed his subjugation. 
 
 Uncle Dan was perhaps not thinking 
 of this circumstance, as he glanced to- 
 
B pair of polios 27 
 
 day at the serenely blissful young face 
 beside him, a face which had never in all 
 these years begrudged him a smile. Yet 
 such reminiscences were not wholly for 
 eign to his thoughts, and they doubtless 
 lent their own agreeable though unrecog 
 nized flavor to his meditations, as he 
 looked upon the Venetian lagoons through 
 the eyes of his Pollys. 
 
 In the course of time two other little 
 maids had come upon the scene, Susan 
 and Isabella were their unsuggestive 
 names. Married now, both of them, Un 
 cle Dan was wont to state, parentheti 
 cally ; and indeed, if the truth be known, 
 he had always taken a parenthetical view 
 of these unexceptionable little nieces. 
 But when his Polly had remained for 
 seven years without a rival in his affec 
 tions, a fourth small damsel had presented 
 herself, and had been regarded by her 
 parents as the logical candidate for her 
 mother s name. From that time forth 
 the Colonel was the happy possessor of 
 two Pollys, and it would have been dim- 
 
28 B Venetian 5une 
 
 cult to say which had the more complete 
 ascendency over him. Big Polly and lit 
 tle Polly he called them, and before the 
 little one was well out of long clothes he 
 had formed the project of showing his 
 Pollys the world. 
 
 The death of his sister having occurred 
 some years since, his brother-in-law s 
 second marriage which took place after a 
 due interval, left Uncle Dan with a free 
 hand to carry out his project. He could 
 not but feel indebted to Beverly for taking 
 a step which rendered him independent 
 of daughterly ministrations, though such 
 a proceeding ran counter to one of the 
 Colonel s most perverse and therefore 
 most valued theories. That a woman 
 should take a second husband had long 
 seemed to him both natural and proper, 
 but the reasons were obvious, to his mind 
 at least, why a man should be more con 
 stant. Be that as it may, however, here 
 they were, Uncle Dan and his Pollys, and 
 to-day, of all days, the Colonel was little 
 disposed to cavil at anything. 
 
B pair of ipollgs 29 
 
 " What good manners this man has ! " 
 Pauline remarked, as Vittorio made his 
 answer to the Signorina. 
 
 "Yes;" Uncle Dan replied. "He 
 never slips up on that." 
 
 Where does he get it ? " 
 
 "A family trait. His father had it 
 when he used to row me twenty-five years 
 ago, and I ve no doubt his forbears were 
 all like that. It s a matter of race." 
 
 A matter of race ! cried Ma}*. 
 "Why, Uncle : Dan, when that Italian in 
 the train the other day stared us out of 
 countenance and we asked you to do 
 something about it, you told us it was 
 the custom of the country ! " 
 
 "That s only Uncle Dan s way of 
 shirking his responsibilities," Pauline 
 explained. "It s lucky for you, May, 
 that I m getting on in life. I don t know 
 what you would do if you had n t any 
 better chaperone than Uncle Dan." 
 
 "And yet, you don t seem so very 
 old," May remarked, rather doubtfully, 
 tilting her golden head at a critical angle. 
 
30 B IDenetfan $une 
 
 " I don t believe anybody would suspect 
 you of being twenty-seven." 
 
 " That s a comfort," laughed Pauline, 
 with a humorous appreciation that was 
 like Uncle Dan s. 
 
 Pauline Beverly had not, like her sis 
 ter, a reputation for beauty, yet she pos 
 sessed undeniable charm. Her hair was 
 of a sunny brown, and softly undulating ; 
 her eyes were of the same shade as her 
 hair, and capable of a changing light, 
 and, when she smiled, her face, soft and 
 pure, but not brilliant in coloring, had 
 somehow the look of a brook rippling 
 over brown pebbles in a shady place, 
 where the sunshine comes in threads and 
 hints, rather than in an obliterating flood 
 of light. The years, whose sum seemed 
 to May so considerable, had performed 
 their modelling very gently, conferring 
 upon the countenance that winning 
 quality which is the gift of those who 
 habitually think more of others than of 
 themselves. 
 
 They were coming in past the red sen- 
 
ipair of fcoltES 31 
 
 tinel-tower of San Giorgio, May still sit 
 ting on the low steps facing the stern of 
 the gondola. As the young girl looked 
 past her companions, across the silvery 
 spaces of the lagoon, her eyes grew 
 dreamy and far-away. So marked was 
 the phenomenon, that Uncle Dan was 
 moved to exclaim : " A penny for your 
 thoughts, Polly." 
 
 May started, for she was not often 
 caught sentimentalizing. Then, with 
 the directness which characterized her, 
 she said: "I was wondering whether 
 one might not perhaps find a soul here 
 in Venice." 
 
 A soul ? What kind of a soul ? 
 
 "Oh, any sort would do, I suppose. 
 You know Signer Firenzo told me my 
 voice was bcllissima, but that I hadn t 
 any soul." 
 
 "Perhaps Signer Firenzo is a better 
 judge of voices than of souls," Pauline 
 suggested, with a confident little smile. 
 
 "A young girl like you. hasn t any 
 business with a soul," Uncle Dan de- 
 
32 & Venetian 
 
 clared. " If you think you see one com 
 ing over the lagoon you had better turn 
 round and look at the Lion of St. Mark s. 
 He hasn t the sign of a soul, yet he s 
 the best of good fellows, as anybody can 
 see." 
 
 May promptly turned, and fixed her 
 eyes upon the classic beast in question. 
 
 "I didn t know that lions had such 
 long, straight tails," she remarked. 
 
 The wings strike me as being more 
 out of the common," Uncle Dan chuc 
 kled, much reassured by Polly s ready 
 return to the judicial attitude. 
 
 " I should almost think," said Pauline, 
 musingly, that a lion that had wings 
 and a taste for literature might perhaps 
 have a soul after all ! " 
 
TO. B IReverie. 
 
 MHHN Vittorio was told to come for 
 them in the evening, he had cast 
 a significant glance at a certain radiant 
 white cloud, billowing in the West, and 
 said : " Speriamo " / which, in the vocab 
 ulary of the gondolier means: "Let us 
 hope for the best and prepare for the 
 worst." Upon which the cloud had 
 gradually taken on more formidable pro 
 portions, until, just at dusk, it burst in 
 a torrent of rain, which swept the Grand 
 Canal clear of sight-seers, and sent the 
 nightly serenaders, who usually act as 
 magnets to the wandering gondolas, into 
 the hotels for refuge. A band of them 
 were established in the long, wide corri 
 dor of the Vcnczia, where their strong, 
 33 
 
34 B \Denetian 3une 
 
 crude voices and their twanging strings 
 reverberated rather noisily. 
 
 Wondering how it must seem to have 
 nerves young enough to sustain such 
 rough treatment, the Colonel abandoned 
 his nieces to their self-inflicted ordeal, and 
 mounted the stairs to his own familiar 
 quarters. And there, as he closed the 
 door behind him, he ceased to speculate 
 upon such ephemeral matters. 
 
 He had come up, ostensibly to write 
 some letters, but instead of doing so, 
 he lighted a cigar, and seated himself at 
 the window, watching the swoop of 
 the rain along the hurrying waters of the 
 Canal. The tide was coming in and 
 the wind was with it. One gondola at the 
 ferry was struggling across the current, 
 with difficulty held to its course by the 
 efforts of its straining oarsman. The 
 passengers had taken refuge under the 
 felze, or gondola hood. Impatient of 
 the slow progress of the boat, the Col 
 onel looked down into the hotel-garden 
 directly beneath his windows, which 
 
tfleverie 35 
 
 was drowned in a moist blur, that only 
 seemed intensified where it focused about 
 the electric lights. Over there again, 
 across the Canal, stood the great Salute, 
 showing ghostly and unreal in its massive 
 whiteness, half obliterated by the driving 
 rain. It would have seemed that the 
 most perfunctory letter-writing might 
 have been an improvement upon such 
 a prospect as that. Yet the Colonel sat 
 on, puffing in a desultory manner at 
 his excellent cigar, and reflecting that 
 another five years had gone by. 
 
 A curious thing, he was thinking to 
 himself, how inevitably he found himself 
 in Venice once in five years. It was not 
 in his plan to do so. He would have 
 been just as ready to return after an 
 interval of two years, or of three ; but, 
 for one reason or another, he never 
 seemed able to arrange his affairs to 
 that end until the fifth year had come 
 round. Somebody was sure to die and 
 leave him executor of his will ; or this 
 or that charity of which he was treasurer 
 
36 B tDenetian 5une 
 
 made a point of getting into a tight 
 place. To-morrow was the twenty-ninth 
 of the month ; to-morrow always was 
 the twenty-ninth on his first arrival in 
 Venice. Yet that, too, was the merest 
 accident, as he assured himself with 
 some heat. None of these things were 
 premeditated. 
 
 He should call upon her to-morrow, 
 certainly. It would be a downright dis 
 courtesy to wait until they had met by 
 chance. He wondered if she were ex 
 pecting him. Probably not; she had 
 other things to think of, especially now 
 that her son was with her. 
 
 It would be a pleasure to see her, 
 her beautiful, friendly eyes, that enchant 
 ing smile, that wonderful turn of the 
 head. As though she could ever have 
 cared for a battered old wreck like him ! 
 And yet he knew, with an indubitable 
 knowledge, that he should ask her again. 
 And the answer would be the same as 
 it had been twenty-five years ago, when 
 she was but a three-years widow. 
 
IReverie 37 
 
 He had been hasty, he had not suffi 
 ciently respected her past. He should 
 have waited. And yet, when he came 
 again, after five years, perhaps that, too, 
 was an error of judgment. Perhaps 
 his coming, after so long an interval, 
 caused the revival of old memories, 
 caused a shock which might have been 
 avoided if he had ventured sooner. And 
 then, when another five years had passed, 
 he had begun to age. A man who has seen 
 field service has not the staying powers 
 of other men. That London doctor knew 
 all about it in a moment. Yes, he had 
 already begun to age, fifteen years ago. 
 And now ! 
 
 The Colonel relighted his cigar, which 
 had gone out. How the rain kept at it ! 
 He could hear the swish of it on the wall 
 of the house across the garden. Kven 
 Venice could be dreary. 
 
 He had never seen her anywhere else. 
 He did not ask himself why he had re 
 frained from seeking her out in her own 
 home, not five hundred miles from his 
 
38 B iflenetfan 5une 
 
 own, why he had always come to her 
 here in Venice, where all her married life 
 had been spent. After all, a man does 
 what he must. And to-morrow he should 
 ask her again ! He did not wish to, he 
 did not even intend to. He could resolve 
 not to, here, in cold blood, with the dis 
 heartening rain blotting out the rose 
 bushes down below, and a disheartening 
 conviction of failure blotting out his 
 nerve and courage. But to-morrow she 
 would rise to meet him, in her own 
 gracious way, he should touch her beauti 
 ful, firm hand, where a single jewel shone. 
 He thought if he could ever see another 
 ring upon that hand, one which, having 
 no significance of its own, might weaken 
 the significance of that diamond, now 
 grown old-fashioned in its low setting, 
 there might be a chance for him. But, 
 no ; there would be but the one ring, and 
 there would be no chance for him ; and 
 yet he should ask her ! 
 
 There was another gondola struggling 
 across the Canal, Why should anyone 
 
B IRcverie 39 
 
 be out in such weather? It must be 
 a lover, or some such sanguine person, 
 bent, as like as not, upon a fruitless 
 errand. The Colonel had but scant sym 
 pathy with lovers ; they so rarely had 
 any discrimination. 
 
 Yes, she would come forward, with ex 
 tended hand, to meet him. He wondered 
 whether the streak of grey on the right 
 temple would have widened appreciably. 
 Perhaps it would have spread itself, like 
 a fine white film of lace, over the abun 
 dant hair. It would probably be very 
 becoming. That was another curious 
 thing ; every time he saw her she had 
 grown more beautiful. The years that 
 had dealt so harshly with him had 
 touched her only to an added grace and 
 tenderness ; experience had drawn only 
 noble lines upon her face, and there was 
 an ever-increasing warmth and gracious- 
 ness of countenance which was infinitely 
 finer than the bloom of youth. People 
 made a great deal of youth, but really, 
 when you came to think of it, what a 
 
40 B Venetian 3-une 
 
 meagre, paltr}^ thing it was ! A man 
 hardly began to live before he was thirty- 
 five ! 
 
 "Uncle Dan, may we come in ? " 
 
 The door flew open, and two young 
 persons, with all the disabilities of youth 
 upon their heads, came rustling in upon 
 the old bachelor s misanthropic reverie. 
 Instantly the atmosphere had changed. 
 
 " It was very good fun," May re 
 marked, as she perched upon the arm of 
 her uncle s chair. They shrieked 
 Margherita and Santa Lucia and a 
 lot of opera airs, till we thought we should 
 lose our tympanums, and so we came 
 away." 
 
 " We were in quite as much danger of 
 losing our manners," Pauline interposed. 
 "We sat next a delicious English girl, 
 pretty as a picture and unresponsive as a 
 statue, and we simply dragged her into 
 conversation. She took us for English 
 and was terribly shocked to find we were 
 Americans, and not even Canadians at 
 that. You don t mean to say that you 
 
IReverie 41 
 
 come from the States ! she cried, quite 
 forgetting that she was a statue. And 
 then May got wicked, as she always does 
 when her patriotism is touched." 
 
 "Nonsense!" May broke in ; "it 
 is n t patriotism ; it s self-respect." 
 
 "And how did you work off your self- 
 respect? " asked Uncle Dan, deeply in 
 terested . 
 
 " I told her I thought it was very 
 strange that English people should mis 
 take us. That we never mistook them ; 
 we knew at a glance a person from the 
 Isles. She rose to it like a tennis-ball, 
 and asked what isles I referred to. 
 Why, the British Isles, I answered, 
 innocently. And then she looked mysti 
 fied, and Pauline discovered that the noise 
 was very fatiguing, and we came away." 
 
 For half-an-hour Uncle Dan listened, 
 highly diverted, to the chatter of the 
 girls, and it never once occurred to him 
 to remember the meagreness and paltri 
 ness of their condition. After they had 
 left him, he turned to the window, feeling 
 
42 B Venetian 3-une 
 
 that the dreariness without and within 
 was a very transitory and inconsequent 
 thing. And lo ! a change had come. 
 The influx of youth would appear to 
 have put to flight other clouds than those 
 of a morbid mind. The rain had alto 
 gether ceased. He could see the roses 
 gleaming moistly in the circles of electric 
 light. The serenaders were just pushing 
 away in their big barge, with colored 
 lanterns swaying in the breeze. They 
 were beginning to sing, and their voices 
 sounded sweet and melodious in the open 
 air. Above the Salute the clouds were 
 breaking away, and there were stars 
 gleaming in the detsp blue clearing. 
 
 Have 3^ou seen the stars, Uncle 
 Dan?" came Pauline s voice through 
 the key-hole. " We re going to have a 
 glorious day to-morrow ! 
 
had been spend- 
 ing an hour among 
 the wonderful glooms and 
 gleams of St. Mark s, and 
 now they had mounted to 
 the high gallery that spans 
 the space between pillar and 
 pillar. The Colonel had !_ 
 looked twice at his watch, 
 for he had an appointment 
 with himself, so to speak, 
 and he proposed to leave the 
 girls to the study of the gold mosaics 
 which they seemed inclined to take seri 
 ously. For the moment they were lean 
 ing upon the stone balustrade, looking 
 down into the great dim spaces of the 
 church. 
 
 43 
 
44 21 Venetian Suite 
 
 " I wish I knew whether it was really 
 good," said May, lifting her golden head 
 in deprecation of a possibly misguided 
 admiration. " It is so beautiful that I m 
 dreadfully afraid it is meretricious." 
 
 " It is really good," said a voice close 
 at hand. "I think we may set our 
 minds at rest about that." 
 
 The voice was its own passport and no 
 one thought of taking the remark amiss. 
 Uncle Dan, who had been consulting his 
 watch for the third time, looked up with 
 a twinkle of good understanding, which 
 the appearance of the speaker justified. 
 The young man was possessed of a good 
 figure and a good face, as well as of a 
 good voice. 
 
 Somewhat startled, the girls turned 
 and discovered that they had been ob 
 structing the narrow passage. 
 
 "Oh, I beg your pardon ! " they both 
 cried, as they retreated into an angle of 
 the gallery. "You could n t pass us by." 
 
 "I did n t particularly want to," the 
 stranger replied, quite at his ease. " This 
 
Signora 45 
 
 is one of the best points of view, and it 
 was much to his credit that he did not 
 give the obvious turn to his remark by 
 looking at the two girls as he made it ; 
 for neither the beauty of the youthful 
 sceptic nor the quiet distinction of her 
 sister was likely to have been lost upon a 
 man of his stamp. That they were 
 sisters, unlike as they were, could not 
 have escaped the most casual observer. 
 
 " Then you know what is good," May 
 remarked, in perfect good faith. 
 
 " I know this is good," he answered ; 
 " and I am sure it is much too good to 
 be interrupted." 
 
 He was at the disadvantage of holding 
 his hat in his hand, in deference to place, 
 so that he was unable to indicate a defer 
 ence to persons by lifting it. Yet he took 
 his leave with so good a manner that the 
 Colonel was moved to detain him. As 
 the stranger made his way past him, the 
 elder man remarked : " It must be worth 
 while to be up on architecture in this part 
 of the world." 
 
4 6 B Venetian $une 
 
 "It s worth while to be up on archi 
 tecture in any part of the world," the 
 young man replied. "Where there is 
 nothing to see there is all the more to 
 do." 
 
 He paused a moment, as if St. Mark s 
 were really more interesting than his own 
 opinions. Then: " Have you travelled 
 much in our own West? " he asked. 
 
 " No ; " was the Colonel s unblushing 
 admission ; for he was a New Englander 
 of the New Englanders, and valued his 
 own limitations. 
 
 There s good work going on out 
 there; it s a great field." 
 
 " But surely you are not a Westerner ! " 
 the Colonel protested. 
 
 "No; but I sometimes wish I were. 
 It s the thing to be." 
 
 There was no challenge in his voice, 
 yet Colonel Steele was half inclined to 
 take umbrage at the unprejudiced state 
 ment of fact. The ease, however, with 
 which the young man again indicated a 
 courteous leave-taking without the aid of 
 
Cbe Sisnora 47 
 
 a hat disarmed criticism, and as the Colo 
 nel watched the slowly retreating figure, 
 he willingly accorded to the heresy the 
 indulgence due to youthful vagaries. To 
 be sure, he could not remember that an 
 exaggerated estimate of the Great West 
 had ever been a vagary of his own youth. 
 But then, he supposed that the West had 
 made advances since his day ! 
 
 A glance at his watch changed the 
 direction of his thoughts, and a few min 
 utes later Vittorio was rowing him swiftly, 
 with the tide, up the Grand Canal. Just 
 as the noon gun roared out from the base 
 of San Giorgio, the Colonel rang the bell 
 of the Pallazzo Darino. 
 
 She was sitting, the lady of his even 
 ing reverie, the lady of a life-long reverie, 
 one might as truly say, just as he had 
 hoped to find her, alone and disengaged. 
 Two or three open letters lay upon the 
 tablebesideher, but they lay theremeekly, 
 as if they knew that they must bide their 
 time. 
 
 "Ah ! Colonel Steele !" 
 
48 B Venetian 5une 
 
 She spoke his name as no one else had 
 ever done, somehow as if it were a title 
 of nobility, and as she came forward to 
 meet him, the soft rustle of her garments 
 filled him with content. He took the 
 extended hand, and, bending above it, 
 he noted the diamond, in its low, old- 
 fashioned setting, gleaming there alone. 
 
 I am glad you are faithful to Venice, 
 she said. "I hoped you might come 
 this year." 
 
 t And you still come every year ? 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The white film had spread just as he 
 had anticipated. He could see how com 
 plete it was, as she seated herself in the 
 full light of the open window. The Colo 
 nel had sometimes been startled to find 
 how his premonitions in regard to her 
 had come true. One year he had said 
 to himself: she will be paler than usual ; 
 I wonder if she has been ill. And he had 
 found that she had been ill, and there 
 was a fragility and pallor about her that 
 seemed to him quite heart-breaking. 
 
Gbe Signer* 43 
 
 Again he had said to himself she will 
 be wearing crape as in the old times ; I 
 wonder why. And when he had come 
 to her she had told him of her mother s 
 death a few months previous. So to-day 
 he had known of that lace-like whiteness 
 of the beautiful head, and of a certain 
 deepening of the depression of cheek and 
 chin, which had not been there five years 
 ago. 
 
 " Yes," she was saying. " I don t find 
 Venice anywhere else, and so I come 
 over every year. Happily, I like the 
 voyage." 
 
 The Colonel did not like the voyage, 
 but that was a painful fact which he had 
 never felt called upon to admit. 
 
 "This year I have my boy with me," 
 she added. That is a great pleasure. 
 
 "And I have my nieces," he replied, 
 deterred by a curious jealousy from pur 
 suing the subject of the boy. 
 
 " How delightful ! That is, I suppose 
 you find it so, since you have brought 
 them." 
 
50 B IDenctian 5une 
 
 "Oh, yes; it makes quite a different 
 thing of travelling. We came over in Oc 
 tober. We have been wintering in Rome." 
 
 He wondered how he should put it this 
 time. Five words usually sufficed, five 
 words that meant so much to him, and 
 so little, so intolerably little to her. 
 
 "I am glad you have young people 
 with you," she said. "We need them 
 more and more as we grow older." 
 
 "Well; that depends," the Colonel 
 demurred, too loyal to his Pollys, even 
 here and now, to allow them to be re 
 garded generically. "There are not 
 many girls I should w r ant to have on my 
 hands. I think the Pollys are rather 
 exceptional." 
 
 What did you say the name was ? 
 
 "Polly; Polly Beverly." 
 
 " And what is the other one s name? " 
 
 " Same name. They are both Pollys. 
 I named them myself," he added, with 
 a quite unforeseen revival of that agreea 
 ble self-satisfaction which he never could 
 conceal in this connection. 
 
tTbe Signora 51 
 
 And then, to his own surprise, he found 
 himself entering with much gusto upon 
 the story of their christening. By the 
 time he had finished, he felt quite toned 
 up and invigorated. 
 
 "Tell me some more about them," she 
 begged. 
 
 She was leaning back in her seat, se 
 renely receptive. The Colonel, sitting 
 opposite to her in the straight-backed 
 chair such as he always chose, noted, 
 with a curiously disengaged pleasure, 
 the wonderful opaline quality of the im 
 pression she made. The soft gray folds 
 of her dress, the still more softened gray 
 of the hair, and the deep gray of the 
 beautiful eyes, none of these quiet shades 
 were dull and fixed. A delicate play of 
 light and shadow made them vital, as 
 the gray of the lagoons is vital, when 
 there are clouds before the sun, and a 
 strange, mystic luminousness traverses 
 their tranquil spaces. She had always 
 reminded him of the lagoons. The as 
 sociation only seemed to make each more 
 
52 B Venetian 5une 
 
 exquisite and apart. And now, as he 
 told her about his Pollys, it was with 
 very much the same sense of perfect 
 gratification with which he had taken 
 them out upon the water the day before. 
 There was also the same singular absence 
 of the old, familiar pain and oppression. 
 
 "What are they interested in?" she 
 asked, and there could be no doubt in the 
 Colonel s mind that she really cared to 
 know. 
 
 "Well; they are interested in pretty 
 much everything, though in a different 
 way. For instance, they are making 
 short work of Italian. They speak bet 
 ter than I do, after all these years," he 
 declared with delighted self-depreciation, 
 " though perhaps that s not much to 
 brag of. One of them has got the accent 
 and the other the grammar ; so they pull 
 very well together. Then the younger 
 one can sing like a bird." 
 
 The Colonel was warming to his sub 
 ject, and the Signora, as he liked to call 
 her, did not interrupt. 
 
Stgnora 53 
 
 "She has been studying with Firenzo 
 in Rome. He says she s got a tip-top 
 voice and plenty of execution. Sketches, 
 too, not particularly well, though. Her 
 things look right enough, but somehow 
 they don t say much. Firenzo thinks 
 that s the trouble with her singing. 
 Good voice, you know, but it does n t 
 speak. Young, I suppose ! That s it ; 
 eh?" 
 
 "Twenty years old, you say? Yes, I 
 should call that young ! And the other 
 one ? Tell me about her. 
 
 "Well, Polly has n t much ambition. 
 Nice contralto voice, not much culti 
 vated. Rather a contralto little woman, 
 don t you know? The kind that some 
 how warms the cockles of your heart. 
 Lots of character, too. There s nothing 
 weak about Polly. You 11 like her." 
 
 "I m sure I shall. And what has 
 she been about all these years ? Twenty- 
 seven, did you say? " 
 
 " Well, family matters mostly. They ve 
 kept her pretty busy. She s the eldest, 
 
54 B IDenetian 5une 
 
 you know. She has married off three of 
 them already." 
 
 " Three sisters ?" 
 
 * No ; two sisters and a father. There s 
 nobody left now, but these two." 
 
 It was all very like that trip on the la 
 goons yesterday ; only, in the one case, 
 he had seen the lagoons through the eyes 
 of his Pollys, while to-day he seemed to 
 be seeing his Pollys, through the eyes of 
 the woman he loved. And he found that 
 gracious sharing of his interest a balm to 
 the old wound, and he was soothed and 
 beguiled into a strange new acquiescence. 
 It would come again, the importunate 
 trouble. He should, in a very few min 
 utes, bring down upon himself that gentle 
 refusal, more poignant in its kindness 
 than scorn or misprision would have been. 
 
 As he sat there touching upon one 
 characteristic and another of his Pollys, 
 in the direct, soldiery fashion that cuts 
 through ordinary modes of speech, clean 
 and incisive as a sword-point, he vaguely 
 felt that this was only a postponement, a 
 
Sicwora 55 
 
 respite. It could not last, this extraor 
 dinary, unaccountable resignation. He 
 was not sure that he should approve of it 
 if it did. But, meantime, he had not told 
 her how the girls had enjoyed riding on 
 the Campagna, and how they had fol 
 lowed the hunt one day, and not a bone 
 broken ! Nor how they had got to know 
 their way about Rome like a book, and 
 h ow really, the subject was quite inex 
 haustible ! 
 
 The sun was shining like mad upon the 
 palaces opposite, and as he looked across 
 the flower-boxes in the window, he felt 
 quite in sympathy with this high noon 
 of light and color. A steamboat shrieked 
 beneath the window, and the discordant 
 sound hardly seemed an intrusion. And 
 then, suddenly, taking him quite at un 
 awares, a firm step resounded upon the 
 hard, smooth conglomerate of the broad 
 passage-way, and " Here is Geof ! " his 
 mother announced. " You would hardly 
 know him, Colonel ! " 
 
 The Colonel rose to his feet and turned 
 
56 B IDenetian 5une 
 
 toward the door, guiltily conscious that 
 he had evaded the subject of Geof. As 
 his eye fell upon the lithe, vigorous figure 
 coming toward him, he recognized the 
 fact that evasion was no longer possible. 
 An instant later he had recognized the 
 young architect of Western proclivities 
 whom he had taken such a liking to an 
 hour ago. 
 
 "So you are Geof," the Colonel ex 
 claimed. " I might have known it, too, 
 though I had quite forgotten that you 
 were grown up." 
 
 " And you are Colonel Steele ! Why, 
 this is great ! You used to be first rate 
 to me when I was a little chap. Were 
 those your daughters in the gallery ? " 
 
 "No; my nieces," said the Colonel, 
 and his spirits went up like a cork. He 
 knew the Signora was great friends with 
 her son, but she evidently understood 
 where to draw the line ! 
 
 " And I may bring them to see you, 
 Signora ? 
 
 " The sooner the better. Whv not this 
 
Signora 57 
 
 afternoon ? We can have tea early and 
 get a couple of hours on the lagoon in the 
 pretty light. I m afraid you have an en 
 gagement, have n t you, Geof?" 
 
 " Oh, I don t mind throwing Kenwick 
 over. He 11 keep," and the young man 
 stepped to the other window and flung it 
 open. 
 
 GeofFry Daymond went down to the 
 door with his mother s old friend, but he 
 had the tact not to offer him a hand across 
 the plank to the gondola ; an act of for 
 bearance which was not lost upon the 
 Colonel. 
 
 11 Not a bit like his mother," the Colo 
 nel was saying to himself. " Not a bit. 
 Wonder if he takes after his father. The 
 kind of man that would stick in a wo 
 man s memory, I should say." 
 
 And then, just as the gondola was pass 
 ing the house where the little stone girls 
 keep their uncomprehending outlook upon 
 the world, a sharp pang took him, fol 
 lowed by a strange, was it a disloyal 
 sense of relief, and he exclaimed, under 
 his breath " I never asked her ! " 
 
OU did n t tell us what a beauty 
 Mrs. Daymond was, Uncle Dan," 
 said May, as they sat at dinner that 
 evening. 
 
 They had a small table to themselves, 
 close by one of the long glass doors open 
 ing out into the garden. It was a warm 
 evening, and sweet, vagrant perfumes 
 came straying in at the open door, and in 
 the momentary hush which sometimes 
 falls upon the noisiest table d hote, pretty 
 plashing sounds could be heard in the 
 Canal beyond the garden. 
 
 "Not a very easy thing to do, "said 
 Uncle Dan, setting down his glass of 
 53 
 
B 3Fcsta 59 
 
 claret, with a wry face. He felt sure that 
 the wine had been kept on ice. Ugh ! 
 
 " Have you known her a longtime? " 
 
 " Yes, Polly ; since before you were 
 born." 
 
 " What an age ! " cried May. " And 
 you never told us a word about her ! 
 
 " Fact is," Uncle Dan explained, " I 
 have n t seen her more than once in five 
 or six years, and then only over here. 
 You 11 find people don t want to hear 
 about your travels." 
 
 Really, quite an ingenious turn, the 
 Colonel flattered himself, to account for 
 the passion of a life-time as an incident 
 of travel ! He was so exhilarated over 
 this feat that he was emboldened to pur 
 sue the subject. Besides, big Polly had 
 not spoken, and he could not suffer any 
 tribute to the lady of his allegiance to go 
 by default. 
 
 " What did you think of her, Polly ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 "I can only say," Pauline declared, 
 with an earnestness of conviction that 
 
60 B iDenetian $une 
 
 was even more expressive than her sis 
 ter s encomiums, " that if she had not in 
 vited us girls to go in her gondola it would 
 have spoiled the afternoon." 
 
 " But the son is very nice ; did n t you 
 think so?" asked May, seized, in her 
 turn, with the spirit of investigation. 
 " He did n t even seem conceited, which 
 clever people usually are. 
 
 "Yes, indeed ! he is very nice; how 
 did you like him, Uncle Dan ? " 
 
 "Geof?" Uncle Dan repeated, rather 
 absently ; " How did I like Geof? Oh, 
 I should say he was turning out very well. 
 But I thought you girls had the best of 
 it ; " whence it may be gathered that Mrs. 
 Daymond had not only borrowed the two 
 girls, but had offered her son as compen 
 sation to the Colonel. 
 
 " How pretty the two gondolas will 
 look going about together when we get 
 our new flags," said May. " It will be a 
 regular little flotilla." 
 
 " Are n t you expecting a good deal of 
 Mrs. Daymond?" Pauline demurred. 
 
B jfesta 6 1 
 
 "Why of course we shall go about to 
 gether. She said she hoped to see a great 
 deal of us while we were here. 
 
 The Colonel emptied his claret-glass, 
 while a sense of warmth and well-being 
 stole through his veins, that made him 
 think he must have been mistaken about 
 that ice. 
 
 "Are you going to fly the stars- and- 
 stripes ? " he asked. He had never con 
 sidered the prow of a gondola a very fit 
 ting situation for the flag he had fought 
 for, but perhaps the Pollys knew best. 
 
 "No, indeed," said May. "We are 
 going to have something ever so much 
 prettier than that." 
 
 "Ah, Polly ! There s nothing prettier 
 than the stars-and-stripes," the Colonel 
 protested. 
 
 " May means more original," .said Pau 
 line. "She has had one of her happy 
 thoughts." 
 
 "You see, Uncle Dan," May explained, 
 " there are such a lot of national flags 
 on the gondolas, and it seems so stupid 
 
62 B Venetian 3une 
 
 not to have something different. So Mr. 
 Daymond and I have concocted quite a 
 new scheme, or rather the idea was 
 mine and he is going to paint them. We 
 are going to have a sea-horse painted on 
 red bunting, in tawny colors, golds and 
 browns ; and Mr. Daymond thinks he 
 shall make one for their gondola on a dark 
 blue ground. Sha n t you feel proud to 
 sail the Venetian lagoons with a sea-horse 
 at the mast-head? " 
 
 " Proud as a peacock ! And the young 
 man is going to paint it for you ? 
 
 "Yes ; is n t that good of him ? And 
 sha n t we look pretty ? " 
 
 "Never saw the time 3^011 didn t," 
 Uncle Dan was tempted to say. But he 
 flattered himself that he never spoiled his 
 nieces, and so he remarked instead, with 
 his most crafty grimace : " No ; you 11 
 probably look like frights;" which, if 
 the girls had not been quite case-har 
 dened against his thinly disguised com 
 pliments, might have had just the dis 
 astrous effect he wished to avoid. 
 
B tf esta 63 
 
 Truth to tell, they were neither of them 
 very susceptible to flattery, for neither of 
 them was in the least self-centred. Even 
 May, who was far from sharing her sis 
 ter s mellow warmth of interest in other 
 people, even May, with all the crudities 
 and shortcomings of youth still in the 
 ascendant, was too much occupied with 
 her rapidly acquired views of the phenom 
 ena about her, to pay much attention to 
 the perhaps equally interesting phenom 
 enon of her own personality. The im 
 pression left upon the two girls by their 
 half hour s talk with Geoffry Daymond 
 was characteristic of each. May ap 
 proved of him because he had been 
 interested in her ideas ; and Pauline liked 
 him because he had been interested in 
 her sister. 
 
 Whatever the young man s impressions 
 may have been, it may as well be stated 
 at once, that in the course of that tea- 
 drinking he made up his mind that his 
 mother really had a right to expect him 
 to stay with her for the next week or two, 
 
64 B Venetian $une 
 
 and that he should tell Oliver Kenwick 
 to-morrow, that he would have to get 
 somebody else for that tramp through the 
 Titian country. What did he care about 
 the Titian country, any way ? Here was 
 Titian himself here in Venice, and lots 
 besides. He would pitch into those flags 
 to-morrow. That was really a very happy 
 thought of the talkative one. He won 
 dered if the quiet one would say more if 
 she got a chance ; she did not look stu 
 pid. And that reflection had struck him 
 as so preposterous, that he had almost 
 interrupted her sister in her expression 
 of opinion on the subject of the famous 
 bronze chargers that seem always on the 
 point of plunging down from the front 
 of San Marco into the Piazza, to the de 
 struction of the babies and pigeons there 
 assembled, to ask : " Miss Beverly what 
 do you like best in Venice ? 
 
 " The gondola," said Pauline, after an 
 instant s reflection, a little pause which 
 proved to be one of her idiosyncracies. 
 
 The gondola?" he repeated, doubt- 
 
B 3f esta 65 
 
 fully. "The gondola isn t very much 
 by itself." 
 
 " But the gondola never is by itself. 
 It s the centre of everything. It s all 
 Venice and a living creature besides, 
 something like a person s heart. Of 
 course I don t mean the gondolas on the 
 souvenir spoons!" she added, with the 
 little ripple, that was so much prettier 
 than a definite smile. Decidedly, Miss 
 Beverly was not stupid. 
 
 " You row, of course ? May had con 
 sidered her question to be quite in line 
 with the conversation. " Is it very diffi 
 cult ?" 
 
 " Not after you get the knack. That 
 is, the forward oar gets going after a 
 while. I rather think you would have to 
 begin almost in long clothes as these 
 gondoliers do to get anything like their 
 skill in really handling the boat." 
 
 And now, in reply to Uncle Dan s art 
 ful substitute for a compliment, one of 
 the prospective frights remarked : " Mr. 
 Day mon d says they have a lighter oar 
 
66 B Venetian $une 
 
 that he used to row with when he was a 
 boy. He is going to get it out for us to 
 morrow, and then we must all learn to 
 row." 
 
 I think I should prefer to learn by 
 observation," Uncle Dan demurred, as 
 he pulled his stiff leg out from under the 
 table. Upon which, dinner being over, 
 the girls went off in search of their wraps, 
 while the Colonel stepped out between 
 the glass doors, and strolled down to the 
 bottom of the garden, where the water 
 lapped the stone parapet. 
 
 The dusk had gathered and the stars 
 were coming out. The water was dotted 
 with gondola-lights that twinkled here 
 and there, like detached will-o -the wisps, 
 the black hulls of the boats not being 
 clearly distinguishable in the shadow. 
 Kvery gondola was out, excepting the 
 few unlucky ones that were detained for 
 ferry service ; for there was to be &festa 
 this evening, and the forestieri, by 
 which pretty woodsy name the tourist is 
 designated in the most poetic of tongues, 
 
B tfeeta 67 
 
 could be counted upon to pay fancy 
 prices. 
 
 The Colonel, secure in his possession 
 of Vittorio, took no part in the bargain 
 ing that was going on at the hotel steps, 
 a few yards away, and all along the line 
 of the garden wall. He was standing 
 beside the iron railing, pulling at a con 
 templative cigar, and listening, with 
 considerable relish, to the wrangling of 
 the gondoliers, when he heard a voice 
 just under the wall, saying: " Buona 
 sera, Signore ! It s Nanni." 
 
 The Colonel had not observed that one 
 of the shadowy barks had glided close 
 in under the wall at his feet. 
 
 "Why, Nanni!" he exclaimed; and 
 reaching down over the railing, he clasped 
 a strong brown hand. 
 
 The man was standing at the stern of 
 the gondola, steadying the oar with one 
 hand. He had flung his hat to the floor 
 of the boat, and as he stood there, bare 
 headed, the garden lights shining full 
 upon his upturned face, he made a strik- 
 
68 B Venetian $une 
 
 ing picture. His hair was absolutely 
 black, and his face was of the pure Ital 
 ian type, very dark, and cast in noble 
 lines. About the mouth and eyes, a 
 touch of austere melancholy was discern 
 ible, even now, in the animation of the 
 moment. He was like his brother, 
 though his face lacked the sunlit quality 
 which was his brother s chief charm of 
 countenance. On the other hand, the 
 intelligence of his brother s face was here 
 developed into something higher and 
 more serious, higher and sadder, the 
 Colonel thought, in the moment s pause 
 that followed. He had not seen this pro 
 tege of his for ten years, and the years 
 had left their impress upon him. 
 
 Vittorio has met with a slight acci 
 dent," Nanni was saying. "He has 
 twisted his wrist, and if he rows this 
 evening it will get worse. Will the Sig- 
 nore permit me to act as substitute ? 
 
 The Signore looked disturbed. 
 
 " I don t know, Nanni, how that would 
 work," he said. " My nieces, you know. 
 I m afraid they would find you out." 
 
B 3festa 69 
 
 " No fear of that Signore. I m as 
 good a gondolier as ever I was, and I can 
 hold my tongue." 
 
 The Colonel looked at him critically. 
 To the initiated, there was a good deal 
 both in the man s speech and bearing to 
 rouse suspicion. A subtle difference that 
 would hardly be defined as superiority ; 
 was it not rather something contradictory, 
 not quite homogeneous, and in so far 
 disadvantageous? The Colonel was not 
 addicted to careful analysis of his im 
 pressions, and he felt himself cornered. 
 
 " I hope you won t misunderstand me, 
 Nanni," he said, apologetically. " I m 
 immensely proud of you ; it isn t that. 
 But, well, it s not my way to talk about 
 things. I suppose it s crochety, but 
 somehow, I like to keep things separate, 
 you know. If you talk about a thing it 
 usually spoils it." 
 
 It did not once occur to the Colonel 
 that the man of education, and presumably 
 of some social standing, would feel any 
 aversion to a temporary relinquishment 
 of these advantages. To the padrone \ 
 
70 B Venetian $une 
 
 the skilled physician who owed to him 
 his education, was still, first and fore 
 most, the son of his old gondolier, in 
 whom, when a bright boy of fifteen, a 
 week in hospital with a broken arm had 
 aroused a consuming ambition to be a 
 doctor. The education, the profession, 
 seemed to the Colonel perhaps because 
 it was primarily due to him, accidental 
 and extraneous. Fundamentally he was 
 still the gondolier s son, the member of a 
 caste too imperative and enduring in 
 character to yield to circumstances. 
 
 And the really noteworthy feature of 
 the situation was the fact that the gon 
 dolier s son fully shared the view of the 
 padrone. Once in Venice, among his 
 own people, Giovanni Scuro felt as 
 thoroughly at home in the character of 
 gondolier, as if he had never learned the 
 meaning of the word science. Hence he 
 could answer, with perfect sincerity : 
 "Si, Signore ; I understand. But you 
 may trust me. And you will go out 
 with me this evening ? " 
 
B tf esta 71 
 
 " Why, yes ; I suppose we had better," 
 said the Colonel, somewhat reassured. 
 
 "And to-morrow, if Vittorio is not 
 able to row ? Of course that is as the 
 Signore wishes. Another gondolier can 
 be had to-morrow for the asking ; but to 
 night, the prices are appalling. They 
 have no consciences, these men." 
 
 "We ll see how it works to-night. 
 Ah ! there are my nieces. We will meet 
 you at the door. And, by the way, 
 Nanni, have you picked up any Eng 
 lish ?" 
 
 " No, Signore ; only French." 
 
 As the gondola came up to the landing 
 the party stepped aboard as quickly as 
 might be, to clear the way for others who 
 were waiting their turn, and it occurred 
 to Uncle Dan that the girls might, after 
 all, not notice the new man at the oar. 
 But he had reckoned without May s ob 
 servant eyes. The moment the boat was 
 free of the crowd, she turned sharp about 
 and looked at the gondolier. 
 
 "Why, Uncle Dan," she cried. 
 
72 B Venetian 5une 
 
 We ve got a new man! Did you 
 know it?" 
 
 " Yes ; Vittorio has twisted his hand, 
 and his brother has come to take his 
 place." 
 
 " His brother ? Oh, yes ; he does look 
 like him. We were lucky to get him, 
 were we not? " 
 
 " What a pity Vittorio should have 
 hurt his hand ! " said Pauline. " I hope 
 it s nothing serious. He was such a 
 nice man." 
 
 "No," said the Colonel, incautiously. 
 " His brother says it s nothing serious." 
 
 "But he can t know much about it," 
 Pauline urged. " Don t you think he 
 ought to see a doctor ? 
 
 "I rather think he will, to-morrow, 
 unless it s all right again." 
 
 " If it s a sprain he can t be too care 
 ful with it," she insisted. 
 
 What is Italian for sprain ? asked 
 May. " I want to tell the man to have 
 a doctor. 
 
 " I m sure I don t know," said Uncle 
 
B ffesta 73 
 
 Dan, trembling for his guilty secret. 
 " I ll tell him." 
 
 "How can you tell him, if you don t 
 know how ? May argued. Then, turning 
 abruptly, and glancing up into the dark, 
 intent, forward-looking face, just visible 
 in the uncertain lights of the Canal : 
 "Hasn t your brother seen a doctor?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "Si, Signorina," Nanni replied, with 
 out an instant s hesitation. 
 
 " And what does he think is the trou 
 ble?" 
 
 " A slight sprain," said Nanni; "he 
 hopes it is nothing serious ! " 
 
 " That was very sensible of you," said 
 May ; "to send for a doctor at once. 
 There, Uncle Dan, now we know the 
 Italian for sprain. I believe in always 
 trying to say everything!" in which 
 startling statement the young girl ad 
 mitted more than she had intended. 
 
 They were just passing the Palazzo 
 Darino, where a gondola lurked in the 
 shadow. 
 
74 B Venetian 3-une 
 
 We shall hardly see them in the 
 crowd," Uncle Dan remarked. "What s 
 your idea, Nanni ? Think you can keep 
 us out of the jam ?" 
 
 " Si, Signore ; I know a place where 
 they wont crowd us." 
 
 What a funny name that is for a man, 
 May exclaimed. 
 
 " It s short for Giovanni. I got in the 
 way of calling him that when he was a 
 little shaver and used to row me about 
 with his father." 
 
 The Canal was twinkling with gondola 
 lights, and as they approached the broad 
 arch of the Rialto the crowd became 
 greater, obliging them to pause now and 
 then, while the dip of multitudinous oars 
 made itself heard, a delicious under 
 tone to the shouts and execrations of ex 
 cited gondoliers. Presently, however, 
 they had cleared the bridge, and a few 
 strokes of the oar brought them into a 
 quiet little haven formed by two big boats 
 moored alongside the fish-market. As 
 they came to a stop they could already 
 
21 tfesta 75 
 
 hear the music floating round the great 
 bend of the Canal. The hulls of the two 
 fishing boats loomed tall and dark at 
 either end of the gondola, while the rays 
 of a lamp in the arcade over yonder fell 
 athwart the yellow-brown sail of one of 
 them, reefed loosely about the mast. 
 There were a good many people on the 
 quay, but they were a quiet gathering. 
 The more aggressive members of the Ve 
 netian populace are pretty sure to get 
 afloat on such an occasion, and a dozen 
 different kinds of irresponsible craft were 
 being propelled, with more or less skill, 
 and a distracting absence of etiquette, 
 among the decorous gondolas, whose 
 long-suffering masters shouted themselves 
 hoarse in their efforts to enforce the con 
 ventional rules of the highway. 
 
 Presently one of the gondolas glided in 
 alongside the Colonel s, and almost be 
 fore their respective occupants could rec 
 ognize one another the gunwales of the 
 two boats had been securely lashed to 
 gether. 
 
76 B Venetian 3-une 
 
 "We re just in time," said Geoffry. 
 " We could see the reflection of the lights 
 around the bend, when we were in mid 
 stream. Ah, there it comes ! " 
 
 As he spoke, a brilliant, variegated 
 light fell upon the mass of gondolas a few 
 rods up the Canal, and a moment later 
 the huge structure of red, white, and green 
 lamps, came drifting down-stream. It 
 represented a great temple with dome-like 
 roof topped by a crown of lights, glittering 
 against the dark background of the night. 
 As it drew nearer, the throng of boats in 
 its path thinned a little, and broken re 
 flections of the gleaming lights danced 
 between the gondolas, and sparkled in 
 the oar-drops. 
 
 " What do you think of the architec 
 ture of it?" May asked, in her fresh 
 young voice, that seemed to dissipate il 
 lusion, like a ray of plain daylight let in 
 upon a stage scene. 
 
 Daymond laughed. 
 
 I don t perceive any, he said. Do 
 you?" 
 
B tfesta 77 
 
 "Well, I don t know; I supposed it 
 was meant for a building." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Pauline. " It s meant 
 for a dream. Don t wake us up, May ! 
 See ; they re stopping in front of the Ca 
 Doro." 
 
 The movement of the great barge had 
 been so slow, that it had halted almost 
 unawares in front of the beautiful palace, 
 and straightway a rosy bengal light lit up 
 the carvings of the fairy-like facade with 
 a magical effect. The band, lurking 
 melodramatically under the gleaming 
 arches of the barge, struck up a prelude, 
 and presently a soprano voice rose high 
 and strong above the wind and stringed 
 instruments, ringing superbly out across 
 the water. The fantastic impression of 
 the scene was so strong that it seemed as 
 if the visible brilliance of the shining 
 lights had entered into the voice itself, 
 giving it a weird and uncanny splendor. 
 The vast floating audience listened, mo 
 tionless and silent, until the last note 
 went out like a light suddenly extin- 
 
78 n Venetian $une 
 
 guished. Then, after a gust of hand-clap 
 ping had subsided, the glittering barge 
 moved forward once more, the dip of 
 a hundred oars plashing softly in its 
 wake. 
 
 When the mass of the attendant flo 
 tilla had passed the mouth of their little 
 haven, the two friendly gondolas glided 
 out amid-stream, in time to see the crown 
 of light lowered within the dome, for the 
 passage under the bridge. The reflec 
 tions played upon the face of the arch 
 until the massive granite seemed hardly 
 more real than the fairy-like temple of 
 light itself; and then suddenly, the flick 
 ering colors vanished from the face of the 
 bridge, and were shining upon the broad 
 under-span of the arch. An instant later 
 it was past and over, and May and Geof- 
 fry were comparing impressions with 
 great earnestness on her part and undis 
 guised relish on his. 
 
 How pretty the light must be on the 
 Virgin and the Angel on the other side 
 of the bridge," said Pauline. 
 
& 3f eeta 79 
 
 "Yes," Mrs. Daymond answered ; "I 
 was thinking of that." 
 
 Then came a mysterious gliding of the 
 two gondolas, Indian-file, down dark, 
 narrow canals, where were glimpses, 
 through low passage-ways into dimly 
 lighted squares. On one of the bridges, 
 as they passed beneath it, a hollow foot 
 step sounded, and as they looked back 
 they could see a cloaked figure leaning 
 upon the stone parapet. Now and then 
 a chance gas-lamp cast upon the wall 
 beside them the shadow of the gondo 
 lier s swaying figure, vanishing then in 
 the black water like a stealthy suicide. 
 Pauline looked round once or twice, 
 involuntarily, to make sure that the 
 man was still there, and once May said : 
 Nanni, could we get past if we were 
 to meet any one ? " 
 
 "Si, Signorina," the grave voice made 
 answer ; and Uncle Dan felt agreeably 
 confirmed in his impression that Nanni 
 was to be trusted. 
 
 Nearly two hours later, the girls were 
 
80 B Venetian 3une 
 
 awakened from their first sleep by the 
 soft plashing sound of myriad oars. In 
 a moment they were standing on the 
 balcony in their pretty cashmere wrap 
 pers, leaning on the cushions of the 
 stone balustrade. On came the gleaming 
 colors of Italy, not a single light extin 
 guished during the long, slow passage 
 down the Canal ; nor did the floating 
 escort seem diminished by so much as a 
 single boat. 
 
 A crimson bengal light was flushing 
 the face of the Salute, as the luminous 
 apparition halted before it, and a burst 
 of music rose from the barge. Over 
 yonder, beyond the long, low line of the 
 Giudecca, a pensive old moon was com 
 ing up, slow and mist-obscured, as if 
 reluctant to rise upon a world so well 
 able to dispense with its light. 
 
 The old moon always goes to your 
 heart," said Pauline. 
 
 " Yes ; but it will be young again in 
 a week or two," May observed, consol- 
 
B tfesta 81 
 
 ingly ; and at that instant an emerald 
 light struck full upon the white fa?ade 
 of San Giorgio, and straightway the poor 
 old moon was consigned to the oblivion 
 it clearly coveted. 
 
 6 
 
. <5atberfng poppies. 
 
 "TTHIS is Vittorio s 
 
 gondola, is it not, 
 Nanni?" asked May, who 
 had an eye for details and had 
 ^T instantly identified the boat. 
 "Si, Signorina." 
 
 They had spent the morning sight 
 seeing, and now they were, according to 
 Uncle Dan, having their reward, coast 
 ing along the outer shore of the Giu- 
 decca, in the heavenly afternoon light. 
 The Colonel much preferred the easy 
 social conditions of the gondola to the 
 restraint, not to say chill, of church and 
 chapel, where a man must not wear his 
 hat nor speak above a whisper. 
 
 May was sitting, as she liked to do, in 
 the little gondola chair, whence she com- 
 82 
 
(Batbenng poppies 83 
 
 manded every point of the compass ; a 
 position which had the further advantage 
 of facilitating communication with the 
 gondolier. 
 
 "Why don t you use your own gon 
 dola ? " she persisted. 
 
 For an instant Uncle Dan s loyalty 
 wavered, and he wondered whether Polly 
 were not perhaps a trifle forward for so 
 young a girl. He had not been struck 
 by it before, and even now he would 
 have challenged such a heresy in another ; 
 but, really, 
 
 " Because this is the better gondola," 
 Nanni replied, in the grave, impersonal 
 tone which was in such marked contrast 
 with his brother s eager alacrity. 
 
 "I wish Vittorio would get well," 
 May exclaimed, impatiently ; " this man 
 is n t half as nice." 
 
 "Don t you think so?" Pauline que 
 ried. " He is a perfect gondolier." 
 
 " Yes ; but he is so unapproachable. 
 One could never get confidential with 
 him ; one would never ask him about 
 
84 B Venetian $une 
 
 his wife and children, and think how 
 delighted Vittorio was to tell us about 
 each individual bambino ! 
 
 It would not be of much use to ask 
 him," Uncle Dan interposed hastily. 
 " For he hasn t any." 
 
 " I have an idea he is poor," said Pau 
 line. Even poorer than the rest of 
 them. I wonder what is the reason." 
 
 "So do I," said May. " Nanni, is 
 your gondola a very old one ? 
 
 " Si, Signorina ; very old." 
 
 What a pity ! It must be very bad 
 for you. Which is your ferry ? " 
 
 " I don t belong to any." 
 
 " But I thought every gondolier be 
 longed to a ferry." 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 " Is n t that so ? " May insisted. 
 
 "Si, Signorina, but I am no longer a 
 gondolier. 
 
 "Why ; what are you ?" 
 
 At this juncture Uncle Dan felt it im 
 peratively necessary to interpose again. 
 
 " That s San dementi," he observed, 
 
<3atberfnc; poppies 85 
 
 indicating an island half-a-mile away, 
 composed apparently, of red brick and 
 window-glass. 
 
 " How lovely ! " May exclaimed ; and 
 the indiscriminating respou.se betrayed 
 inattention. 
 
 "What are you? " she asked again. 
 
 "I do not live in Venice, Signorina ; 
 my home is in Milan." 
 
 "In Milan ? What do you do there ? 
 
 " I am attached to a hospital." 
 
 There was something peculiarly provo 
 cative of curiosity in the laconic replies 
 of the man. May wondered whether his 
 reticence was due to modesty or to morose- 
 ness. Perhaps she could find out. 
 
 "What do you do at the hospital?" 
 she asked. 
 
 For the first time his eyes met hers 
 directly, as he said, with something al 
 most like a challenge in his voice : "I 
 am one of its servants, Signorina." 
 
 Yes, May thought, it was moroseness ; 
 he was unhappy, and no wonder. 
 
 " What a pity ! " she cried, with very 
 
86 B IDenetfan 5une 
 
 genuine compassion in her voice. " It 
 can t be half so nice as being a gondo 
 lier." 
 
 But Nanni was again intent upon his 
 work, rowing with long, steady strokes, 
 his eyes fixed upon the course of the 
 gondola. 
 
 " Do you like it as well ? " she asked, 
 with a quite inexplicable sense of temer 
 ity. She felt herself on the verge of 
 being overawed by the stately reticence 
 of this hospital servant. 
 
 "It is my work," said Nanni, in a 
 gentler tone. " A man s work is his 
 life." 
 
 " But if you had a good gondola and a 
 place at a traghctto, wouldn t you rather 
 come back to Venice ? 
 
 " No, Signorina ; I love my work." 
 
 " Polly, you ought to have been a 
 lawyer," Uncle Dan remarked, highly 
 amused at the insuccess of her catechizing, 
 which he by this time perceived to be 
 harmless. 
 
 They had turned in to one of the canals 
 
(Satbering poppies 7 
 
 of the Giudecca, that great crescent island 
 whose curve follows the southern line of 
 the city, as the outer arc of a rainbow 
 follows the inner. Not a breath stirred 
 the water of the canal, upon which theirs 
 was the only moving craft. Moored close 
 to the low, brick coping of the quay, 
 which bordered one side of the rio, were 
 two or three fishing boats, their broad 
 hulls black, their rudder arms rudely 
 carved and gaily decorated. Here a gor 
 geous red sail hung loose in the still air ; 
 there, a voluminous brown net, bordered 
 with rings and bobbers, was stretched 
 between two stout masts, drying in the 
 sun. Curious great bulging baskets, 
 dingy brown in color and shaped like 
 giant sea-urchins, depended from the 
 gunwales, half immersed in water, the 
 mortal remains of small, crab-like crea 
 tures sticking to their sides. All this 
 picturesqueness, and more besides, was 
 reflected in the placid water. On the one 
 hand was the quay, with its irregular 
 row of houses done in delicious sun-baked 
 
B Venetian 3une 
 
 colors, in front of which women in sul 
 phur shawls and children in variegated 
 rags were sunning themselves and pass 
 ing the time of day. On the other side, 
 a tumble-down wall of brick, that once 
 was red, rose out of the water in such 
 formless dilapidation that one could not 
 tell where the reality merged into the 
 reflection ; while masses of verdure from 
 a hidden garden tossed their heads above 
 it, or tumbled over it as if enchanted to 
 get a glimpse of themselves in the dark, 
 cool water below. A wooden bridge 
 spanned the canal, glassed perfectly in 
 the still water, and somebody s wash, 
 hung out to dry at one end of the rustic 
 railing, blended acceptably in the quaint 
 harmony of the picture. 
 
 Nanni had been rowing slowly, and 
 just there, perceiving that the attention 
 of his passengers was arrested, he stayed 
 his oar. A bird, hidden somewhere 
 among the foliage in the garden, chose 
 that moment for making a melodious 
 observation to his mate, while a some- 
 
poppies 89 
 
 what timid and tentative baby-voice from 
 the quay lisped : " Un soldino" not with 
 any business intention but merely by way 
 of practice. The whole thing was so in 
 credibly pretty that there w^as nothing to 
 be said about it, and for a number of 
 seconds no one spoke. 
 
 Then May exclaimed : <l I m so afraid 
 somebody will say something ! upon 
 which the others laughed, and instantly 
 the oar \vas put in motion again, the 
 gondola gliding forward under the bridge 
 and past other ruinous, verdure-crowned 
 walls. 
 
 What a shame this man should not 
 be a gondolier," May cried, returning to 
 the charge, with unabated interest. " It 
 does seem as if we might perhaps do 
 something about it." 
 
 She glanced up at the grave face, half 
 inclined to press the subject further. The 
 man was gazing straight over the prow 
 of the gondola, not more intent than his 
 brother often was, yet the young girl felt 
 abashed and deterred from. her purpose. 
 
go B Venetian $une 
 
 If it were Vittorio, she told herself, she 
 might be sure that the dark features 
 would break into a flashing smile when 
 she spoke to him. But this man could 
 not be depended upon to look pleased 
 at any casual notice bestowed upon him. 
 She wondered why ; she wondered why 
 he was so different. Had he always been 
 like that, or was it his life of exile and 
 servitude? Nothing could convince her 
 that he really liked his work in the hos 
 pital, far away from his beautiful Venice. 
 There was some mystery about it, and 
 she hated to be baffled. 
 
 "Yes, I always like poking about in 
 the Giudecca," Uncle Dan was saying. 
 " It s chock full of pretty bits, and then 
 you keep coming out on the lagoon 
 again, and like as not there are marsh- 
 birds or people wading about after shell 
 fish. There s always something going 
 on on the lagoons." 
 
 Why, I should have said that the 
 lagoon was the quietest place in the 
 world," Pauline remarked. 
 
<3atbertng poppies 9 1 
 
 " It is," Uncle Dan admitted. "That s 
 why you are so sure to notice any little 
 thing that happens to be going on ! " 
 
 Meanwhile the gondolier had uncon 
 sciously suited his action to their word, 
 and they had come out upon the lagoon 
 again, and now they were skirting the 
 pretty green Giudecca shore, where scar 
 let poppies stood bright and motionless 
 in the still sunshine. 
 
 "Oh, I want some of those poppies," 
 cried May. " Nanni, could we go ashore 
 and get some of those flowers ? How do 
 you call them ? 
 
 "They are papavcri, Signorina," he 
 answered ; "I will get you some." 
 
 " But I want to get them myself." 
 
 " That would not be possible, Signor 
 ina ; it is difficult to land." 
 
 He rowed slowly for a few seconds 
 more, and then he backed water and 
 brought the gondola in toward the shore 
 which rose several feet above the wa 
 ter and w r as formed of loose earth and 
 stones. May, forced to admit that she 
 
92 a Denettan 3-une 
 
 could not herself land, seated herself on 
 the gondola steps whence she could watch 
 the proceedings. The gondola was creep 
 ing closer and closer to the shore, sidling 
 in, for it was only here and there that the 
 water was deep enough to carry the boat. 
 Presently Nanni laid the blade of the oar 
 flat upon the grass and so drew the boat 
 gently in. Then, still keeping his hold 
 upon the shore with the blade of the oar, 
 he laid the other end across the stern, 
 and, assuring himself that the balance 
 was perfect, he found a foothold in the 
 loose earth, and, with one long step, 
 gained the top of the embankment. 
 The gondola gave somewhat beneath his 
 foot, and the stern rose as it righted it 
 self, but the oar-blade did not yield its 
 curiously tenacious hold. 
 
 " How nice of him, not to tell us to 
 sit still," May exclaimed. "One does 
 like to be treated like an intelligent 
 being!" 
 
 She watched the tall figure moving here 
 and there, stooping to pick half-a-dozen 
 
(3atbetin0 poppies 93 
 
 blossoms, giving an occasional glance at 
 the gondola meanwhile, to make sure that 
 all was well. Presently the figure dis 
 appeared in the hollow. 
 
 "One feels quite abandoned," Pauline 
 remarked. "What would become of us 
 if the boat were to glide off? " 
 
 "We could wade ashore," May sug 
 gested. "It does n t appear to be more 
 than a foot deep anywhere." 
 
 I rather think Nanni would have to 
 do the wading," said Uncle Dan. 
 
 The tide was going out, slipping so 
 quietly to the sea that here, at this re 
 mote anchorage, the receding of the wa 
 ter was imperceptible. The marsh had 
 not yet begun to prick through the sink 
 ing tide, and as the eye wandered across 
 the wide, unbroken stretches of the la 
 goon, it seemed like a vast sea of glass. 
 The day was so clear and so still that the 
 distant spires of Malamocco and Poveglia 
 were mirrored in the lagoon. To the 
 young eyes of the girls, the twin pictures, 
 against their respective backgrounds of 
 
94 B Venetian 5une 
 
 sky and water, were as clear-cut as an 
 etching held in the hand. 
 
 Are those real islands, Uncle Dan ? 
 asked Pauline. 
 
 But before Uncle Dan could make a fit 
 ting rejoinder, May exclaimed: "Oh, 
 look at the poppies ! and all eyes were 
 turned to the shore. 
 
 Nanni had suddenly appeared, close 
 above them, a perfect glory of scarlet 
 poppies in his hand. The sun shone full 
 upon them, till they fairly blazed with 
 color against the background of his dark 
 figure. He dropped on one knee, reach 
 ing down to place the flowers in the Sig- 
 norina s outstretched hand, and as she 
 looked up brightly to thank him, the 
 two figures, with their sharply contrasted 
 coloring, made a startlingly pretty pic 
 ture in the exquisite setting of water and 
 sky. 
 
 " Lungo!" 
 
 The voice rang out musically, as 
 most sounds do, across the water, and, 
 turning, May saw another gondola com- 
 
(Satbering poppies 95 
 
 ing up astern. The curve of the shore 
 had hidden it from view until that 
 moment. 
 
 " Do stay just as you are for a minute," 
 cried the same voice, descending to Eng 
 lish. "We are out after effects, and \ve 
 want those poppies." 
 
 "Of course you do," said May, " but 
 you can t have them." 
 
 Yes, we can, if you 11 only hold them 
 in your hand and let us pilfer with our 
 brushes. You won t lose a single poppy 
 and we shall have them all." 
 
 "If you had any artistic sense you 
 would rather have those tilting about on 
 the shore," said May ; " but if you prefer 
 an indiscriminate mass of color you are 
 welcome." 
 
 Geoffry Daymond s companion mean 
 while was paying his respects to Pauline 
 and the Colonel, who were old acquaint 
 ances. 
 
 " May, you have never meet Mr. Ken- 
 wick, I think," said Pauline. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I have," May declared ; "but 
 
Venetian 5une 
 
 it was ages ago and he never would take 
 any notice of me." 
 
 Do let me make up for it now, Ken- 
 wick begged, rapidly setting his pallette, 
 by way of elucidating his request. 
 
 How long ago is ages ago ? asked 
 Daymond. 
 
 " Four years ago last winter," was the 
 unhesitating reply. " It was when I was 
 fifteen and Mr. Kenwick used to come to 
 see my sisters." 
 
 " My memory does not go back as far 
 as that," said Kenwick. "I m a child 
 of the hour." 
 
 He was a man well on in the thirties, 
 who looked as if he had lived hard ; and 
 since there was nothing in his chosen 
 calling to account for such an impression, 
 the observer was led to seek its origin in 
 the realm of speculation. He had, to be 
 sure, painted several good pictures, but 
 that was ten years ago. Since then he 
 had lived on his reputation, materially 
 reinforced by a not inconsiderable income. 
 As Pauline watched his face, it struck 
 
<3atbertng floppies 97 
 
 her that his smile, which she had always 
 objected to, had grown positively glitter 
 ing in its intensity. Uncle Dan, for his 
 part, thought the young man seemed 
 amusing, but he wished he had not hap 
 pened to be old Stephen Ken wick s 
 grandson. 
 
 Then we may have you ? Geoffry 
 was asking. 
 
 " I thought it was the poppies you 
 wanted," said May, suspiciously. 
 
 " It is ! it is ! " cried Kenwick with 
 fervor. 
 
 " But you make such a pretty setting," 
 Daymond explained ; " your dress, you 
 know, and the general color-scheme." 
 
 "What fun to be a color-scheme," 
 cried May. "Uncle Dan, do you think 
 I might be a color-scheme ? " 
 
 " I don t know that you can help it," 
 was Uncle Dan s rejoinder, intended to 
 express a proper resignation, but betray 
 ing, quite unconsciously, an appreciation 
 of more than the pale blue gown as a 
 background. 
 
Venetian 
 
 Then Nanni, having returned to his 
 post, was directed to row out a little from 
 shore, and presently the two artists were 
 at work, rapidly sketching in the bright 
 figure with the slim black prow for a foil, 
 and the silvery reaches of the lagoon 
 beyond. 
 
 Uncle Dan was sitting in the chair 
 where he could watch the faces of the 
 young men. There was something in 
 Kenwick s manner that antagonized 
 him ; it was, somehow, too appreciative. 
 
 "I make a condition," the Colonel 
 exclaimed abruptly, in his voice of mar 
 tinet. " If there s a likeness the sketch 
 is forfeited." 
 
 "I m safe," Geoffry laughed. "I 
 never got a likeness in my life." 
 
 " I will be as evasive as possible," said 
 Ken wick, somewhat nettled; "but it s 
 rather late to impose conditions." 
 
 11 Am I holding the poppies right?" 
 asked May, after what seemed to her a 
 long interval of silence. " I m afraid 
 they will begin to droop pretty soon." 
 
(Satbering poppies 99 
 
 "The poppies are all right," Geoffry 
 assured her. 
 
 " Does that mean the rest of it is n t? 
 I posed for the girls in a studio once, and 
 they said I did it very well." 
 
 "Girls usually pose well," Kenwick 
 observed ; upon which May concluded, 
 most illogically, that he was conceited. 
 
 Pauline, meanwhile, had not turned 
 toward the other gondola which lay 
 astern of theirs. She was watching her 
 sister and wishing she could .sketch. She 
 thought, if she could, she should rather 
 do her as she received the poppies from 
 the hands of the gondolier. She had 
 one of her prettiest looks then, and the 
 little touch of action was more character 
 istic. There was something conventional, 
 and therefore not quite natural in this 
 passive pose ; May was not in the habit 
 of sitting still to be looked at. 
 
 "Would you like to see. Miss Bev 
 erly?" 
 
 The other gondola had glided up close 
 alongside, and Daymond held out his 
 
ioo B Denetian 
 
 sketch. Faithful to his bond, and to his 
 professed disabilities, he had scarcely 
 hinted at the face, but the pose was 
 charmingly successful, and the scheme 
 of color was all he had promised. Bright 
 as the poppies were, and well as they 
 were indicated, without being individual 
 ized, in the sketchy handling, the really 
 high light of the picture was caught in 
 the golden hair, which gleamed against 
 the silvery blending of water and sky, 
 and was thrown into still brighter relief 
 by the graceful black prow curving be 
 yond it, but a little off the line. 
 
 "It is lovely," said Pauline, as she 
 handed it to May. 
 
 " How pretty ! " cried May ; and then, 
 recovering her presence of mind : "I 
 don t see how you got such a good 
 red." 
 
 Uncle Dan, meanwhile, was examining 
 Kenwick s sketch. 
 
 " How the devil did you get that like 
 ness?" he exclaimed, forgetting, for an 
 instant, the condition he had made. 
 
101 
 
 "Then the thing is forfeited," Ken- 
 wick remarked. 
 
 "That sa fact," the Colonel answered, 
 turning upon the artist a glance of quick 
 distrust. " What s to be done about 
 it?" 
 
 That is for you to say, Ken wick 
 replied. " The sketch is yours." 
 
 The Colonel s face flushed. He had a 
 very lively appreciation of a graceful act, 
 and he was really delighted with the 
 picture. 
 
 "Why, bless my soul ! " he cried ; 
 "that s a present worth having! Kh, 
 Polly?" 
 
 " Indeed it is ! " Pauline agreed, cor 
 dially, taking the picture from her uncle s 
 hand and studying it attentively. 
 
 " All the same," she said, as they 
 were rowing towards home, half-an-hour 
 later; "I should much rather have had 
 Mr. Daymond s sketch. It is not a like 
 ness yet there s twice as much of May 
 in it." 
 
 Do you think so ? " May queried, 
 
102 a tfeuetiau 
 
 doubtfully. "Seems to me he didn t 
 give me any nose." 
 
 "Oh, yes, he did; there was a little 
 dot that did very well for a nose And, 
 besides, there is n t very much of you in 
 your nose." 
 
 " I wish you had told me that my hat 
 was tipped up on one side," May contin 
 ued, reproachfully. She was examining 
 Ken wick s sketch with much interest. 
 
 " It would have spoiled it if it had n t 
 been ; your hair would n t have showed 
 half as well." 
 
 Perhaps not ; and the hair does look 
 pretty," May admitted. "Do you re 
 member how pretty Mamma s hair was, 
 Uncle Dan?" 
 
 "Of course I do. It was prettier than 
 yours," the Colonel declared, cheerfully 
 perjuring his soul in the cause of dis 
 cipline. 
 
 " So I thought, said May. There s 
 always something better than ours. I 
 wonder how it would seem to have any 
 thing really superlative," 
 
atberin<5 poppies 103 
 
 As the gondola came up to the steps of 
 the Venezia, May turned, and looking 
 back at the gondolier, said : " The pa- 
 paveri are beautiful, Nanni." 
 
 She was delighted with her acquisition 
 of a new word, and still more so with the 
 flash of pleasure her thanks called forth. 
 
 "No, he is not morose," she assured 
 herself, as she stood on the balcony, a 
 few minutes later, and watched the gon 
 dola gliding away in the golden afternoon 
 light. The man was rowing slowly, 
 against the tide, but presently the long, 
 slim boat, with the long, slim figure at 
 the stern, rounded the bend of the canal 
 and vanished. 
 
I 
 
 ID1TiriL Gbe pulse of tbeSea* 
 
 [Y the end of another week 
 the life in Venice had 
 come to seem the only life in the world, 
 and even May admitted that there was 
 something mythical about wheels and 
 tram-ways and such prosaic devices for 
 getting about on dry land. Both she 
 and Pauline had acquired some little 
 skill with the forward oar, for, as Uncle 
 Dan justly observed, now that they 
 sometimes succeeded in keeping the oar 
 in the row-lock for twenty consecutive 
 strokes, they were really very little hin 
 drance to the progress of the boat ! May 
 declared that no person of a practical 
 turn would ever take naturally to so 
 unpractical an arrangement as that short- 
 104 
 
pulse of tbe Sea 105 
 
 lipped makeshift, designed to eject an 
 oar at the first stroke. Geoffry Daymond 
 agreed with her in this, as in most of her 
 opinions. He declared in confidence to 
 his mother that her views must either be 
 accepted or flatly contradicted, for they 
 possessed no atmosphere, and they conse 
 quently afforded no debatable ground. 
 
 Kenwick, on the other hand, very 
 rarely saw fit to agree with the positive 
 young person who looked so pretty when 
 she was crossed, or with any one else, for 
 the matter of that. He told May that she 
 would row better if she were not so wool 
 gathering, merely for the pleasure of 
 hearing her scornful disclaimer ; and when 
 Pauline pointed out that she was herself 
 the wool-gatherer, although her oar was 
 quite as tractable as her sister s, he as 
 sured her that she was as much a child of 
 the fleeting hour as himself. 
 
 It was Ken wick s method to talk to 
 people about themselves, with a judicious 
 linking together of his own peculiarities 
 and theirs. He imagined that that sort 
 
io6 B IDenetian 
 
 of thing lent a piquancy to conversation. 
 The aim of Oliver Kenwick s life was to 
 be effective ; his art had suffered from it, 
 and even in social matters he sometimes 
 had the misfortune to overshoot the 
 mark. 
 
 "Uncle Dan," Pauline had asked, one 
 day, after an hour spent in Kenwick s 
 society, "what is the reason Mr. Ken- 
 wick makes so little impression ? " 
 
 "Because hedoes n t tally," May put in. 
 
 "Well," said Uncle Dan, scowling 
 perplexedly ; " I don t quite make him 
 out. But we ve always had a feeling in 
 our family that some of the Kenwicks 
 were not quite our own kind ; " an ex 
 pression of opinion on Uncle Dan s part 
 which owed its careful moderation to the 
 fact that he had accepted and still trea 
 sured the poppy sketch. For there was 
 one thing that the Colonel deferred to 
 even more than to his prejudices, and 
 that was his sense of obligation. 
 
 He therefore submitted, with a very 
 good grace, to seeing a good deal of the 
 
Gbe pulse of tbe Sea 107 
 
 young man, and if it occasionally irked 
 him to have Stephen Kenwick s grand 
 son about, he found his account in the 
 spirit and ease with which his two Pollys 
 dealt with the situation. 
 
 Kenwick, of course, attached himself 
 ostensibly to the Daymond party. He 
 seemed to bear Geof no grudge because 
 of his defection in the matter of the tramp 
 among the Dolomites, which he himself, 
 indeed, had appeared ready enough to 
 relinquish. Without any preconcerted 
 plan it usually happened that the two 
 gondolas fell in with one another in the 
 course of the afternoon, an arrangement 
 which was much facilitated by the bril- 
 liant-hued banners floating at the respec 
 tive prows. 
 
 "There s the flag-ship over by San 
 Servolo," Geof would exclaim, seizing an 
 oar and giving immediate chase ; or they 
 would cruise about in an aimless way 
 until Kenwick dropped the remark that 
 the Colonel had said something about a 
 trip to Murano that day. . 
 
io8 B Venetian 3une 
 
 The casual nature of Ken wick s allu 
 sions to the Colonel s party afforded Geof 
 no little amusement. His pleasure in 
 Oliver s society had always partaken 
 somewhat of the admiring sentiment a 
 plain man entertains for a clever come 
 dian. Being- himself incapable of dissim 
 ulation, even in a good cause, he was 
 the more disposed to condone any harm 
 less exercise of a gift which he could 
 never hope to acquire. 
 
 "I m afraid they won t catch up with 
 us any more, now that we have two 
 oars," said May, one afternoon, as the red 
 banner sped swiftly past the Riva, bound 
 for the Porto del lyido. The day was 
 bright and warm, and the pretty linen 
 awning with its crimson lining was spread 
 above their heads, somewhat obstructing 
 their view. " I wish I could see whether 
 they were coming," she added, with out 
 spoken solicitude. " It s so much more 
 fun to be a flotilla ! " 
 
 " I think they will find us," said Paul 
 ine, smiling to herself, as if she had 
 
Gbe ipulsc of tbe Sea 109 
 
 pleasant thoughts. She would trust 
 Geoffry Daymond to overtake them. 
 Pauline was no match-maker, but, as she 
 told herself, it was the sort of thing that 
 was always happening in the family, and 
 Geof s liking for May was as obvious as 
 it was natural. 
 
 "Do you think, Vittorio, that we can 
 really go out on the Adriatic?" May 
 asked. 
 
 Vittorio had been at the forward oar 
 for a day or two, and to-morrow his 
 brother was to be dismissed and he was 
 to return to his post. 
 
 " Hardly out upon the Adriatic," he 
 said, and, turning, he laid his oar flat 
 across between the two gunwales and 
 balanced himself upon it in order to look 
 under the flaps of the awning into the 
 face of the Signorina. Vittorio was of a 
 pre-eminently social disposition, and he 
 liked to be in visible touch with his listen 
 ers. It was indeed refreshing to see his 
 handsome face and brilliant smile once 
 more. It quite flashed in upon them, 
 
no B Venetian 5une 
 
 being in full sunshine, as they looked out 
 upon it from their shady covert. 
 
 " The new break- water runs out a very 
 long distance into the open sea on either 
 side," he explained; "and we shall 
 hardly get to the end of it. But we can 
 see over it, and there will be the bright 
 sails such as the Signorina likes." 
 
 " How nice he is ! " said May ; "now 
 the other one would have said : No, Sig 
 norina, and that would have been the 
 end of it." 
 
 Yet, even as she spoke, a quick com 
 punction seized her. She had never 
 been able to rid her mind of a disquiet 
 ing conviction that all was not well with 
 this grave, taciturn being, whose per 
 sonality was not less haunting than his 
 bearing was unobtrusive. She did not 
 remember that she had ever before felt 
 so much concern for an indifferent per 
 son, and, being of an active temperament, 
 she could not be content with a passive 
 solicitude. It seemed to her that some 
 thing must be done about it, and that 
 
jpulse of tbe Sea m 
 
 it devolved upon her to solve the prob 
 lem. Perhaps if she were to offer to 
 give the man a gondola he would admit 
 that he was miserable in that drear} 
 hospital, and that he longed for the 
 free life of the lagoons. The project 
 appealed, indeed, so strongly, both to 
 her imagination and to her judgment, 
 that she had already made a mental 
 readjustment of her finances to that end. 
 There was a certain white silk trimmed 
 with pale green miroir velvet that she 
 had once dreamed of, which had some 
 how transformed itself in her mind into 
 a slim black bark, fitted out in the most 
 approved style with cushions and sea 
 horses, and tufted cords. 
 
 " I ought to be willing to dance in my 
 tennis dress the rest of my days," she 
 told herself; "for the sake of changing 
 the whole course of a poor man s life ! " 
 
 "Lungol" 
 
 The familiar call took her quite by sur 
 prise, and looking out from under the 
 awning, she espied the Daymond sea- 
 
B Venetian $une 
 
 horse on its blue ground, already close 
 upon them. Geof was at the oar and 
 Kenwick was sitting beside Mrs. Day- 
 mond. 
 
 " What do you say to our making an 
 exchange of prisoners, Colonel S teele ? 
 asked Mrs. Daymond. " You shall have 
 one of my young men if you will give 
 me one of your girls." 
 
 "Oh, may I come to you?" Pauline 
 begged, mindful of her little air-castle ; 
 for the Colonel always managed, when 
 he could, to get Geoffry into his own 
 boat, and the young man was already 
 engaged in an animated conversation 
 with her sister. 
 
 "Do come," said Mrs. Daymond. 
 And Mr. Kenwick, I shall have to 
 give you up, for I can t spare an oar." 
 
 "Doesn t Mr. Kenwick row?" asked 
 May, lifting a pair of satirical eyebrows. 
 
 11 Not for other people," Kenwick 
 laughed. " I keep my strength for pad 
 dling my own canoe ; and, having seen 
 Pauline safely established beside Mrs. 
 
fcwlse of tbe Sea 113 
 
 Daymond, he stepped into the Colonel s 
 boat, quite unconscious of the scarcity 
 of encouragement he had received. 
 
 The Colonel welcomed him the more 
 hospitably perhaps, for a consciousness 
 of having been somewhat remiss at the 
 outset. He need have had no misgiv 
 ings, however, for Kenwick was so hap 
 pily constituted as to consider a slight 
 to himself quite inconceivable. 
 
 " It was very sweet of you to come to 
 us," said Mrs. Daymond, as the gondolas 
 glided away from each other. We 
 particularly wanted you this afternoon." 
 
 "I am glad of that," said Pauline, 
 with one of her still smiles that seemed 
 to give out as much warmth as bright 
 ness. 
 
 They had passed the island of Santa 
 Elena, and were upon the broad path 
 of the sea-going vessels, which was 
 deserted to-day, save for one yellow sail, 
 yet a long way off, that stood out in 
 full sunshine against the quiet northern 
 sky. The tide was coming in, though 
 
H4 B Venetian $une 
 
 not yet strongly, and they were avoiding 
 the current by keeping in toward the 
 shore of the Lido. 
 
 Geof was rowing, with power and pre- 
 precision, as his habit was. It struck 
 Pauline that he would have been a capi 
 tal gondolier ; and then she remembered 
 that when he got her Uncle Dan talking 
 about the war the other day, a feat, by 
 the way, which few succeeded in accom 
 plishing, she had thought to herself, 
 what a superb soldier he would have 
 made. Presently her eye wandered from 
 the rhythmically swaying figure at the oar 
 to the wide reaches of the seaward path, 
 where the yellow sail showed, clear and 
 remote as a golden bugle-note, its reflec 
 tion dropping like an echo, far, far down 
 into the depths. The other gondola had 
 fallen back a few lengths, as was apt to 
 be the case. 
 
 Did you ever wonder why your men 
 give us the right of way ? Mrs. Day- 
 mond asked. Her voice fell in so natur 
 ally with the dip of the oars and the 
 
Gbe fiMilse of tbe Sea 115 
 
 lapping of the tide against the prow, 
 that Pauline suddenly became aware of 
 those pleasant sounds, which had escaped 
 her notice till then. 
 
 I should suppose of course your gon 
 dola ought to go first," she answered. 
 
 "Oh, no," Mrs. Daymond laughed; 
 "it is not out of deference to me. It 
 is only because Pietro is an old man, and 
 they don t like to hurry him. Is n t that 
 a pretty trait? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed ! Is Pietro very old? " 
 
 "He is sixty-four. He rows as well 
 as ever, only he hasn t quite the endur 
 ance he used to have. He was my hus 
 band s gondolier." 
 
 "And you have had him all these 
 years ? 
 
 "Yes; since before Geof was born. 
 Geof is twenty-nine," she added thought 
 fully ; "just the age of his father when 
 we first met. He is like his father, only 
 happier. 
 
 "Happier?" Pauline repeated, won- 
 deringly. 
 
n6 B Venetian $une 
 
 " Yes ; my husband had peculiar sor 
 rows." 
 
 They were close upon the bright sail 
 now, and they found that it was striped 
 with red and tipped with purple. The 
 slight breeze had dropped and the sail 
 hung loose, glowing in the sunshine as 
 the boat floated homeward with the tide. 
 Two men lay asleep in the shadow of 
 the sail, and the man at the rudder had 
 let his pipe go out. As the gondola 
 came alongside the boat, a small yellow 
 dog sprang up and barked sharply at 
 them, his body, from tip to tail, violently 
 agitated with the whirr of the internal 
 machinery. The helmsman, thus roused, 
 pulled out a match and lighted his pipe ; 
 the sunshine was so bright that the 
 light of the match was obliterated. Mrs. 
 Daymond and Pauline watched the little 
 drama rather absently. 
 
 "There are more sails," Geof re 
 marked, nodding his head toward the 
 mouth of the port, where brilliant bits of 
 color hovered like butterflies in the sun. 
 
pulse of tbe Sea 1 1 7 
 
 Pauline did not say how pretty they were, 
 but Geof, stooping to look under the 
 awning into her face, did not feel that 
 she was unresponsive. He had discov 
 ered before this that she had other means 
 of expression than audible speech. 
 
 They had come about the end of the 
 I^ido, and were following the line of the 
 break-water, and presently Mrs. Day- 
 niond broke the silence : 
 
 " My husband was a Southern Union 
 ist," she said. " The war was an inevi 
 table tragedy to him." 
 
 Pauline felt instinctively that it was 
 not often that Mrs. Daymond spoke in 
 this way of her husband to one who had 
 not known him. She listened with a 
 sense of being singled out for a great 
 honor. 
 
 He would have given his life for his 
 country," Mrs. Daymond was saying: 
 "He would have given his life for the 
 Union, but he was bound hand and 
 foot, and he came away." 
 
 They were far, far out now, still row- 
 
us R Venetian 3une 
 
 ing toward the open sea. As Mrs. Day- 
 mond paused, they could hear the voice 
 of the Colonel, speaking to Vittorio, in 
 his peculiar Italian, only a shade less 
 English than his own tongue. 
 
 " And your husband came to Venice ? " 
 
 Yes ; it was here that we met. He 
 had been gathering material in many 
 places for a history of Venice, and he 
 had come here to write. We spent three 
 years here, summer and winter. He was 
 fond of rough weather, and we get plenty 
 of that here. And he was fond of work." 
 
 She paused again, watching the meas 
 ured stroke of her son s oar. 
 
 " One summer we went into the Tyrol 
 for a few weeks, and while we were away 
 there was a fire, and all my husband s 
 notes and manuscripts were burnt. 
 
 "Burnt?" Pauline repeated, with a 
 catch of consternation in her voice. 
 
 There was not a trace of bitterness in 
 the speaker s face ; on the contrary, its 
 usual clear serenity seemed touched to 
 something higher and deeper. 
 
Gbe pulse of tbe Sea "9 
 
 "Then it was," she said, "that my 
 husband had his great opportunity. He 
 began his work again from the begin 
 ning. His courage did not flag for a 
 single instant." 
 
 "He was a brave soldier after all," 
 said Pauline. 
 
 " Yes ; and he fell on the field. There 
 was a terrible epidemic of fever, and he 
 went about among the people doing them 
 inestimable service in many ways. I 
 could not go with him because of Geof, 
 and, I saw the end from the beginning. 
 As I was saying, Pietro used to row us 
 as long ago as that. He has carried 
 Geof in his arms many a time. Ah ! 
 Now we feel the swell ! 
 
 As she spoke, the long, slow roll of the 
 sea lifted their light bark like a piece of 
 drift-wood upon its sweeping crest, let 
 ting it sink again in a strange and sol 
 emn rhythm. The actual rise and fall 
 of the water was so slight that it was 
 scarcely apparent to the eye ; yet it had 
 the reach and significance of an elemental 
 
120 B Venetian June 
 
 force, and the gondola rose and sank 
 with a certain tremor, foreign to its 
 usual graceful motion. 
 
 "Perhaps we had better turn back, 
 Geof," said Mrs. Daymond. 
 
 Very well ; but not until Miss Beverly 
 has seen the sails outside." 
 
 Pauline went forward and stood upon 
 the upper step, steadying herself by the 
 oarsman s proffered shoulder. The mo 
 tion seemed stronger, now that she was 
 on her feet. 
 
 "Hold harder," said Geof; "you 
 won t enjoy it if you don t feel safe. 
 There ! That s right." 
 
 Over the line of the jetty was the deep 
 blue Adriatic, sweeping to the horizon, 
 its nearer reaches dotted with brilliant 
 sails, shining in every shade of red and 
 yellow and ruddy brown. The long, 
 outer shore of the Lido, stretching far 
 away to the tower of Malamocco, was 
 edged with white, as the gentle curve of 
 the waves broke with a toss of spray 
 upon the sand. 
 
pulse ot tbe Sea 121 
 
 "You like it?" Geof inquired, look 
 ing up into her face. 
 
 " It s as pretty as a tune," she said. 
 " A tune with a lot of harmony to make 
 it really sing. Do you know what I 
 mean ? 
 
 " Perfectly," he answered. 
 
 Then, as she stepped down and went 
 back to her seat : "I m going home as 
 passenger," he announced. "We shall 
 have the tide with us and Pietro won t 
 need my help." 
 
 :< That s right," said Mrs. Daj T mond. 
 " We want you over here." 
 
 The sun had got low enough to shine 
 in under the flaps of the awning, and 
 Geof lifted the canvas from its iron rods, 
 and handed it over to Pietro, who stowed 
 it away, rods and all, in the stern of the 
 gondola. The world seemed to open up 
 immensely bright and big, and the sky 
 struck them with the force of a revela 
 tion. 
 
 "There, I call this grand!" Geof 
 cried, taking possession of the chair. 
 
Venetian $une 
 
 " I ve been feeling like an outcast or a 
 galley-slave, or some such unlucky 
 wretch, laboring away at the oar, with 
 you two having the pick of everything 
 inside." 
 
 " You seemed depressed ! " his mother 
 said, with amused appreciation of his 
 lament. 
 
 They had turned toward home, and 
 were just coming up with the Colonel s 
 gondola. The men were resting on their 
 oars, while the passengers stood up to 
 survey the view beyond the jetty. 
 
 " You did n t come out far enough to 
 get the swell," said Pauline. 
 
 " Yes, we did," May answered. " But 
 we did n t like it ; so we came back." 
 
 "Miss May was pretty badly fright 
 ened," Ken wick observed, with his most 
 brilliant smile. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried May ; " I was no 
 more frightened than anybody else ! But 
 I did n t like it. It felt so horribly big, 
 and made us seem so little." 
 
 And you were perfectly right, Polly, 
 
flMilse of tbe Sea 123 
 
 said Uncle Dan, placing his hand upon 
 the small, gloveless one that lay on his 
 arm. "The sea is no place for a gon 
 dola. I am sure Mrs. Daymond agrees 
 with us." 
 
 " I think we both sympathize with 
 May," she answered, glancing with in 
 terest at the charming young face, which 
 was not quite clear of a certain puzzled 
 disturbance. 
 
 Half-aii-hour later they rounded the 
 end of the I^ido and came in full sight 
 of the city, its domes and towers group 
 ing themselves in ever changing perspec 
 tive against the western sky. They 
 overtook two or three of the brilliant 
 sails they had passed on their outward 
 way, still drifting city-ward with the 
 tide. The men had taken to their oars, 
 and were helping the boats along. 
 
 As they drew near the poor, denuded 
 island of Santa Blena, where only the 
 vine-grown Abbey remains, of all its 
 ancient loveliness, a cascade of lark-notes 
 came pouring down from the sky. They 
 
124 B Venetian 5une 
 
 strained their eyes to catch a glimpse of 
 the birds, lost to sight in the dazzling 
 ether, and as they looked, one tiny crea 
 ture, with wings outspread, came sing 
 ing down to earth. 
 
 The gondolas were Hearing home, 
 when Geof asked abruptly: "How did 
 you like it, Miss Beverly, being caught 
 in the ocean swell ? 
 
 " I agree with May that it was rather 
 solemn and awful," she answered; and 
 then, with a slightly deepening color: 
 "but I liked it." 
 
SAY, Geof; is n t that Colonel 
 Steele s gondola over there? " 
 
 " Why, yes ! " Geof, cried, with mock 
 surprise ; " how clever of you to see it ! 
 And, I say, Oliver, don t you think that 
 looks a little like the tower of San Gior 
 gio ? Red, you know ; rather marked, 
 eh?" 
 
 The two young men were coming home 
 from an early sketching-bout, as was 
 evident from a glance at the gondola, 
 which was distinctly in undress. Old 
 Pietro knew better than to carry his best 
 cushions and brasses on such occasions ; 
 nor did he display the long, black broad- 
 125 
 
126 B IDenetian $une 
 
 cloth, the strassino which gives such 
 distinction to a gondola, falling in ample 
 folds from the carved back of the seat, 
 and hiding the rougher finish of the stern. 
 Under the awning, on the very rusty and 
 dilapidated cushions, sat Kenwick, and 
 beside him, face up, was an oil-sketch of 
 a half-grown boy, sitting at the prow of 
 a fishing-boat, dangling his bare brown 
 legs over the water, which gave back a 
 broken reflection of the bony members. 
 A red sail, standing out in full sunshine, 
 furnished the background to the figure, 
 but somehow, the interest centred in the 
 thin legs, which the boy himself was 
 regarding with studious approval. The 
 legs were so extremely well draw r n that 
 one did not wonder at their owner s .satis 
 faction in them. 
 
 " Pity } T ou can t paint as well as you 
 can chaff," the artist observed, glancing 
 from his own clever sketch to his friend s 
 block, which was leaning, face inward, 
 against the side of the boat. 
 
 Geof was lolling on the steps, his legs 
 
of Denice 127 
 
 somewhat entangled among the easels, 
 paint-boxes, and the like that cumbered 
 the floor of the boat, one arm resting on 
 the deck of the prow. Like many ath 
 letic men, he had a gift for looking out 
 rageously lazy. At Kenwick s retort, he 
 turned from the contemplation of San 
 Giorgio, knocked the ashes out of his 
 pipe, and folding his hands behind his 
 head, bestowed an amiable grin upon his 
 astute friend. He wondered just why 
 Ken wick found it worth while to dissem 
 ble. 
 
 " The best thing you ever did was that 
 poppy sketch," he remarked, regarding 
 his companion with half-closed, indolent 
 eyes. " But then, you haven t often the 
 wit to choose such a good subject. I 
 wish you were not so confoundedly afraid 
 of doing anything pretty." 
 
 " My dear fellow," Ken wick retorted ; 
 " you may be a very decent architect, 
 but I 11 be hanged if you have the first 
 inkling of what art means." 
 
 From which interchange of amenities, 
 
128 B Venetian 3-une 
 
 the average listener might not have in 
 ferred, what was nevertheless true, that 
 the two men had a high opinion of one 
 another s talents. Happily, there was no 
 one to be misled, for Pietro, with all his 
 advantages, had not yet mastered a word 
 of English. The only feature of the 
 situation intelligible to him, was, that 
 Kenwick, too, discarded his pipe at this 
 juncture, and the gondolier was, accord 
 ingly, obliged to stow away his own 
 half-finished cigarette, 4th. quality, in 
 the cavernous recesses of the stern. He 
 had been counting upon smoking it out 
 before arriving at the Palazzo Darino, 
 though he had scented danger from the 
 moment his eye fell upon Vittorio s gon 
 dola. A gondolier, however, is early 
 schooled to study any whim rather than 
 his own, and presently Pietro observed, 
 rather than inquired : " To San Giorgio, 
 Signore ? 
 
 " Sicuro /" 
 
 The red banner was hanging limp in 
 the lee of the island, the prow of the boat 
 
of Venice 129 
 
 being tied to a ring in the masonry, while 
 Vittorio sat at the forward end, holding 
 her off, lest a passing steamboat or out 
 ward bound coaster should drive her 
 against the wall. Under the awning was 
 a glimpse of light draperies, and, as 
 Pietro s gondola drew near, the young 
 men could hear a fresh, girlish voice 
 reading aloud. 
 
 "We re not in visiting trim," Geof 
 called, gathering himself together, as they 
 came up ; " but we must know what you 
 are improving your minds upon." 
 
 "We are reading Ruskin," May re 
 plied, in her most edifying tone of voice. 
 
 " Oh, St. Mark s Rest," said Kenwick. 
 "You re getting enlightened about the 
 pillars." 
 
 "It s very interesting," Pauline de 
 clared. " You know he tells us to have 
 our gondola moored over here, and read 
 what he has to say. Does n t everybody 
 doit?" 
 
 "Well, I don t think you ll ever find 
 San Giorgio fringed with gondolas," 
 
130 B Venetian 5une 
 
 Kenwick mocked; "but I m sure it 
 shows a beautiful spirit in those who do 
 come. I recognize Miss May s docility." 
 
 " You are quite right," said May, with 
 dignity. " It was I who proposed it. 
 Do you read Ruskin, Mr. Daymond ? " 
 
 "Of course I do. One would be lost 
 without him, here in Venice." 
 
 "We almost got lost with him the 
 other day," she rejoined. "We poked 
 about in the rain in search of a San 
 Giorgio on the wall of a house, who was 
 described as vigorous in disciplined ca 
 reer of accustomed conquest. We found 
 the right bridge, with an unpronounce 
 able name, and we turned and looked 
 back, just as we were bid, and never a 
 San Giorgio did we find. Imagine our 
 disappointment when a shop-keeper told 
 us that San Giorgio was partito / 
 
 " He was probably partito on his ca 
 reer of accustomed conquest, " Pauline 
 observed . "Is that what you two artists 
 have been about ? " 
 
 " We have been making a couple of 
 
of Venice 131 
 
 daubs and abusing each other," said 
 Geof. 
 
 "Yes," Ken wick declared; " Day- 
 mond spends his time washing in sails 
 and clouds and watery wastes, and won t 
 take the trouble to draw a figure." 
 
 "Oh, well," said Daymond, philoso 
 phically, " I know that if I should ever 
 want to exhibit, which Heaven forbid ! 
 Kenwick could well afford to put in the 
 figures at ten francs the dozen. I don t 
 suppose you mind being interrupted," he 
 added, tentatively. 
 
 " No, indeed," said May. " Our scene 
 was in need of figures, too. Even Uncle 
 Dan failed us. He hates to be read to, 
 and he would n t come and moor." 
 
 " Besides," said Pauline ; "he wanted 
 to go and sit at Florian s and watch the 
 children feeding the pigeons. He says 
 he shouldn t grow old if he lived in 
 Venice." 
 
 " He had better, then," said Daymond. 
 "Venice is very becoming to old things. 
 Don t you want to come and see some of 
 
132 B IDenetian 3-une 
 
 those Madonnas we were telling you 
 about, with parasols over their heads?" 
 
 "Good," May agreed, promptly giv 
 ing Ruskin the go-by. " And why don t 
 you come in our gondola? You don t 
 want all that clutter going about with 
 you." 
 
 "I in afraid if we don t go home and 
 brush up, we shall have the appearance 
 of a clutter in your boat," said Geof. 
 
 "Speak for yourself," Ken wick pro 
 tested. He flattered himself that he was 
 as well dressed in painting rig as under 
 any other circumstances ; and quite right 
 he was, too. For Oliver Kenwick had no 
 mannish contempt for appearances. He 
 could not have done justice to the ragged 
 .shirt and begrimed legs of a model, if he 
 had been wearing such a superannuated 
 coat as Geoffrey Daymond elected to paint 
 in. Yet, as the two men stepped into 
 Vittorio s gondola, it was he of the shabby 
 apparel who seemed to give character to 
 the group, while Oliver Kenwick would 
 have made very little impression, if he 
 
of Dentce 133 
 
 had chosen to refrain from conversation. 
 This he rarely did, however, and he lost 
 no time in engaging May s attention. 
 
 "It s a pity we haven t time this 
 morning to row out to St. George in the 
 Seaweed," he said. "There s a Ma 
 donna there, on the angle of the wall, 
 that s worth seeing. When we do go, 
 you will have to guess whom it is like." 
 
 "Probably Pauline," May ventured; 
 One keeps seeing her in the Madonnas 
 and saints." 
 
 " No, it s not your sister," said Ken- 
 wick, with unmistakable meaning. 
 
 "You don t mean me!" May ex 
 claimed; "No mortal artist could make 
 a Madonna of me ! " 
 
 "This may not have been done by a 
 mortal artist. At any rate nobody knows 
 who did it. But it s a lovely thing ; " 
 and Ken wick paused, with a view to do 
 ing full justice to the implication. 
 
 "Have you never painted Pietro ? " 
 Pauline was asking, as she watched the 
 striking figure of the old gondolier, row- 
 
134 B Venetian 3une 
 
 ing homeward. He had rescued his 
 cigarette, which he was smoking, with a 
 dandified air, as he made leisurely pro 
 gress across the basin. Pietro had been 
 a handsome young blade in his day, and 
 there were moments when he recalled the 
 fact. 
 
 " Oh, no ; I m not up to that kind of 
 thing," Geof answered ; you know I 
 don t pretend to paint. My business is 
 with bricks and mortar. It s only when 
 I m loafing that I dabble in colors." 
 
 " Yet I liked your sketch of my sister, 
 particularly." 
 
 You don t mean it, Geof exclaimed ; 
 " why, that s worth knowing ! " 
 
 He looked thoughtfully at the graceful 
 young creature in question, once more 
 engaged in animated conversation. She 
 was pretty, no doubt of it, preposter 
 ously pretty ! The coloring of face and 
 head was delicious, and there was noth 
 ing slip-shod about the modelling, either. 
 All bright and clear and significant. She 
 made him think of a perfectly cat jewel. 
 
cf IDenice 135 
 
 It was rather odd that it should have 
 been possible to hit off anything so defi 
 nite, so almost matter-of-fact, in a mere 
 sketch. 
 
 " I suppose it was because I did n t try 
 for too much," he said aloud. The 
 sketch was only a hint." 
 
 As he turned his eyes from May s face 
 to that of her sister, it was hardly more 
 than a glance he bestowed upon the lat 
 ter. He was impressed with the fact 
 that it was impossible to subject the 
 nevertheless perfectly unconscious coun 
 tenance, whose eyes met his so frankly, 
 to the candid scrutiny he had given her 
 sister. 
 
 "I m afraid I shouldn t succeed as 
 well with you," he remarked. 
 
 " I would n t try, if I were you," Pau 
 line laughed ; " I can t get even a photo 
 graph that my friends will accept. Have 
 you any good portrait of your mother ? " 
 
 " No ; Kenwick tried her two years 
 ago, but it was n t a go. 
 
 " Of course not." 
 
136 B Venetian 5une 
 
 Why, of course not ? 
 " Yes ; why, of course not ? " Kenwick 
 demanded. The sound of his name had 
 naturally attracted his attention, and, 
 quite as naturally he was piqued by what 
 he heard. 
 
 Pauline hesitated a moment, not dis 
 concerted, but reflecting. 
 
 " Perhaps only because you re not an 
 old master," she said; "Mrs. Daymond 
 ought to have been painted three or four 
 hundred years ago." 
 
 "And whom should you have chosen 
 to do it ? " Geoffry asked. It struck him 
 that this was quite his own view, only he 
 had never thought it out before. 
 
 " Let me think," said Pauline. " Not 
 any of the great Venetians. They were 
 too, well, too gorgeous." 
 
 " Raphael ? " May suggested. 
 
 "No, not Raphael. Ah! Now I 
 know ! Sodoma could have done it." 
 
 "That s true," said GeofTry. "It 
 ought to have been Sodoma." Then, 
 I believe you feel about my mother 
 
of IDentce 137 
 
 something as I do," he added, as May 
 and Kenwick entered upon a lively dis 
 cussion of their views upon the Siennese 
 painter, in which they seemed able to 
 discover nothing in common beyond a 
 great decision of opinion. 
 
 The gondola was making its way down 
 narrow canals, whose placid water found 
 the loveliest Gothic windows and hang 
 ing balconies to reflect, and under innu 
 merable bridges, each more delectable 
 than the last. Now and then they 
 stopped at some door-w r ay opening upon 
 the water, where they landed, and, pass 
 ing through a ware-room golden with 
 heaps of polenta, or dusky with bronzes 
 and wrought iron, they came out into a 
 court-yard embellished by an exquisite 
 old stone stair-case, with quaint carved 
 balustrade and leisurely landings, where 
 beauteous dames of bygone centuries may 
 have paused, as they descended, decked 
 in rich brocades and costly jewels. Or 
 again, an antique well-head, half-con 
 cealed by tools and lumber, kept its le- 
 
138 B Venetian 3-une 
 
 gend in faithful bronze or marble. The 
 Madonnas, under their iron canopies? 
 looked down, serene and beneficent, 
 standing, here, above a little frequented 
 court ; there, over the gateway of an old 
 palace. There was one which Pauline 
 was the first to espy, as they approached 
 it under the arch of a bridge. The figure 
 was upon the angle of a wall, glassed 
 just where two canals met at her feet. 
 Above her head was a square canopy, 
 over the edge of which delicate green 
 vines and tendrils waved, while in and 
 out among them, tiny birds flitted and 
 chirped. 
 
 As Vittorio rested on his oar, Kenwick 
 took pains to assure May that there were 
 no longer any lights burned before these 
 Madonnas, and Vittorio was called upon 
 to account for the omission. While he 
 eagerly claimed that the Madonna at his 
 ferry was never left without a light be 
 tween sundown and sunrise ; mai, mai f 
 Pauline replied to a remark that Geof- 
 fry had made an hour previous. 
 
of Denice 139 
 
 "The feeling one has about your 
 mother," she said, "almost makes a 
 Catholic of one. You can see how natu 
 ral it is for these poor fellows to worship 
 the Madonna, and how much better it 
 must make them." 
 
 " It is humanizing," Geoffry admitted. 
 "There s no doubt of it;" and there 
 upon it struck him, for the first time, 
 that there was a look of his mother in 
 Pauline Beverly s face. Perhaps that 
 accounted for something that had per 
 plexed him of late. 
 
Diction, 
 
 thing 
 that had 
 per pi exed 
 Geoffry Day- 
 mo n d was 
 nothing less 
 inexplicable than 
 the persistency with 
 which the face of 
 Pauline Beverly had 
 come to insinuate itself 
 into his thoughts. When in her society, 
 to be sure, he was not aware of regarding 
 her with an exclusive interest. Indeed it 
 was, more particularly, May who amused 
 and occupied him, as often as Kenwick 
 gave her the chance. The individuality of 
 that surprisingly pretty young person was 
 so sharp-cut and incisive that it fixed 
 attention. It not infrequently happened 
 that everybody present desisted from con 
 versation, merely for the pleasure of a 
 passive contemplation of her mental pro 
 cesses. These were simple, and to the 
 140 
 
B JSenefcictfoti 
 
 point, and usually played about visible 
 objects. The vital matter with May, in 
 each and every experience, was to formu 
 late a judgment and to compare it with 
 that of other people. If others differed 
 from her, all the better. Opposition is a 
 sharpener of the wits ; and she found 
 Kenwick invaluable in his character of 
 universal sceptic. 
 
 No one but Uncle Dan ever really took 
 her down, and that he did so neatly, that 
 she was never seriously disconcerted by 
 it. Had it been otherwise, Uncle Dan 
 would have held his peace, for he prized 
 the exuberance and unconsciousness of 
 her egotism, which he recognized as the 
 all too fleeting prerogative of youth, and 
 he would not, for worlds, have really 
 checked it. 
 
 When vShe informed him that the heroic 
 age was past, and that this was a mer 
 cantile era, the old soldier, remembering 
 the 6o s, told her she had better look up 
 era in the dictionary. When she an 
 nounced, with all the zest of discovery, 
 
142 B Venetian $une 
 
 that Titian could not draw, it was Uncle 
 Dan who observed that he could paint 
 pretty well, which was the main thing. 
 
 Yes ; she caught the attention, as the 
 most distinct sound, the most obvious 
 sight is pretty sure to do, when people 
 are taking life easily, and seeking only 
 amusement, and she was so refreshingly 
 unconscious that one could look and 
 listen one s fill, and no harm done. 
 
 Yet Geoffry Daymond discovered that 
 when he was making believe paint pic 
 tures, in the first freshness of early 
 morning, or when he was smoking his 
 after-dinner cigar, in the lingering June 
 twilight, the face that interfered with 
 the one occupation and lent charm to the 
 other, was not framed in golden hair, nor 
 animated with the lively and bird-like 
 intelligence which he found so amusing. 
 And not only w r as it Pauline Beverly s 
 face, with its softly blending colors, and 
 its quiet, indwelling light, that floated 
 before his mental vision, but he found 
 that he remembered her words, and even 
 
^Benediction 143 
 
 the tones of her voice, when the gay, and 
 occasionally witty talk of the others had 
 gone the way of mortal breath. He 
 somehow came to associate certain inflec 
 tions of her voice with the sweet sounds 
 that make the undertone of Venetian life ; 
 the plash of the oar, the cooing of doves 
 about the Salute, the bells of Murano, 
 softened in the distance, the sound of 
 the surf beating outside the I^ido of a 
 still evening, when one floats far out on 
 the lagoon, and the familiar, every-day 
 world seems farther away than those 
 other worlds, shining overhead. He 
 speculated a good deal over this new 
 preoccupation, and more still over the 
 sense of passive content that had come to 
 be associated with it. 
 
 For Geof was of an active tempera 
 ment and possessed of but scant talent 
 for repose. This was his first real vaca 
 tion in seven years, yet in spite of his 
 good resolve to idle away a month in 
 Venice for his mother s sake, he had 
 been on the point of finding an outlet for 
 
144 B Venetian 3-une 
 
 his surplus energies in that tramp in the 
 Cadore, when, just what was it that had 
 deterred him from cany ing out the plan ? 
 He believed, at the time, that it was 
 merely the prospect of better acquaint 
 ance with the prettiest and brightest girl 
 it had yet been vouchsafed him to meet. 
 As he had since heard May remark, 
 for having once adopted an opinion, she 
 was fond of testing it in more than one 
 direction, it is such a comfort to get 
 hold of anything superlative ! He was 
 not aware that the elder sister, who cer 
 tainly could not claim a single superlative 
 quality, had played any part at all in 
 that first impression ; yet the thought of 
 her had gradually come to be the hourly 
 companion of his solitude. And now, 
 for the first time in his life he found him 
 self luxuriating, not only in solitude, but 
 in idleness. 
 
 When he had been making a desultory 
 sketch, away out toward Malamocco, or 
 in among the vignoli in the northern 
 lagoon, pausing perhaps, for a good five 
 
B JScneMctfon 145 
 
 minutes, between grassy banks, to listen 
 to the whistle of the black-bird in the 
 hedge, he felt no imperative call to seize 
 an oar and double the rate of speed on 
 the homeward way. On the contrary, 
 he found it a perfectly congenial occupa 
 tion to lounge among the cushions of the 
 gondola and let Pietro row him home at 
 his own leisurely rate, while the two 
 good comrades had a meditative smoke. 
 
 It was because Geof was aware that 
 this state of things was abnormal, that 
 he found it perplexing, and because, 
 much as he enjoyed the experience it 
 self, he did not relish the sense of hav 
 ing somewhat lost his bearings, that he 
 was glad to seize upon the clue which 
 he had got hold of there at the foot of 
 the stone Madonna. Miss Beverly was 
 like his mother ; that was all there was 
 about it. Such a resemblance as that 
 would make any face linger agreeably in 
 his thoughts. 
 
 It had got to be the middle of June, 
 when parish processions are the order 
 
146 B tDenetian $une 
 
 of the day. They were rowing up the 
 Grand Canal, one Sunday afternoon, 
 Geof and his mother, on their way to 
 thefesta, which was timed for the latter 
 part of the day. Pietro and the gondola 
 were in gala costume, snow-white as to 
 Pietro, and, as to the gondola, the new 
 brussels carpet of dark blue, to match 
 Pietro s sash and hat-ribbon and the 
 sea-horse banner floating at the bow. 
 As they passed under the Rialto, and 
 swung round the great bend of the 
 Canal, Geof observed, in an uncon 
 sciously weighty tone : Mother, I have 
 made a discovery." 
 " And that is?" 
 " Miss Beverly looks like you." 
 At this simple statement of fact, the 
 face of Geof s listener underwent one of 
 those subtle changes of expression which 
 the Colonel, in an inspired moment, had 
 likened to the play of light upon the 
 waters of the lagoon. For, being gifted 
 with intuition, unhampered by the more 
 laborious processes of the manly intel- 
 
$enencticm 
 
 lect, Mrs. Daymoncl instantly perceived 
 that Geof had confessed more than he 
 was himself aware. 
 
 She did not reply at once ; to her, too, 
 appeared the face of Pauline Beverly, as 
 unlike her own, she thought, as well 
 might be, and infinitely more attractive 
 to her for that. Yes, there was only one 
 thing that could possibly make them 
 seem alike to Geof. She glanced at the 
 face beside her, so sound, so vigorous, 
 so magnanimous, as it seemed to her par 
 tial eyes. He was gazing straight ahead, 
 with the direct look that his mother 
 liked. He did not seem impatient for 
 an answer ; he had rather the appear 
 ance of being pleasantly absorbed in his 
 own thoughts. It had evidently never 
 once occurred to him to consider, in this 
 connection, how often he had declared 
 that he should never lose his heart until 
 he had found a girl who was like his 
 mother. 
 
 For a moment she was tempted to re 
 mind him of it, but only for a moment. 
 
148 & tDenettan 
 
 For Geof s mother was not the woman 
 to take unfair advantage of a defence 
 less position, even where her own son 
 was concerned. So she only said, after 
 an interval of .silence that Geof had 
 scarcely noticed : " I am glad you think 
 us alike, for I have never met a young 
 girl who was as sympathetic to me as 
 Pauline Beverly." 
 
 " Sympathetic ! That s it ; that hits 
 her off exactly ! " Geof declared ; and 
 then, with an accession of spirits which 
 rendered him suddenly loquacious, " And 
 I say, Mother!" he exclaimed, "what 
 a jolly old boy the Colonel is ! I just 
 wish you could have heard him fire up 
 the other day, when Ken wick got off one 
 of his cynicisms at the expense of Abra 
 ham Lincoln. Tell you what, the sparks 
 flew ! Oliver was up a tree like a cat ! 
 Hullo! There s the flag-ship!" he 
 interrupted his flow of words to announce, 
 as they came in sight of San Geremia. 
 
 The procession, or the component parts 
 of it, not yet reduced to order, was just 
 
Benediction 149 
 
 issuing from the church ; priests and 
 choristers in their gay vestments, huge 
 candles, flaring bravely in the face of 
 the sun, brilliant banners and gaudy 
 images, all in a confused mass, and the 
 people crowding on the flagged campo 
 before the church. Vittorio s gondola 
 was disappearing down the broad Cana- 
 reggio Canal, and Pietro needed no bid 
 ding to follow after. The crowd of boats 
 of every kind, gondolas, sandolos, bar- 
 chettas, batteias, and the score of float 
 ing things that only your true Venetian 
 knows by name, became so closely packed 
 in the more restricted limits of the Cana- 
 reggio, that it was impossible for Pietro 
 to get near the sea-horse on the red 
 ground, floating so conspicuous, yet so 
 aggravatingly unapproachable a few rods 
 ahead. He did succeed, however, in 
 forcing a passage after it, and he made 
 his way to the three-arched bridge which 
 spans the Canareggio, and under which 
 he passed to a good point of view. Here 
 they were obliged to tie to a totally un- 
 
B Uenetfan 3-une 
 
 interesting gondola, with the width of 
 the closely packed canal between their 
 own and the Colonel s boat. They had 
 been carried somewhat farther along the 
 canal than the others, but Pietro man 
 aged to turn his long bark about so that 
 his padroni should face the bridge, which 
 brought Vittorio s gondola also in their 
 line of vision, and there were friendly 
 wavings of hats and parasols between 
 the two. 
 
 Presently the procession drew near, 
 and crossed the bridge, banners waving, 
 candles flaming, priests intoning. The 
 band struck up, and the voices of the 
 priests were drowned in the songs of the 
 choristers. 
 
 The quay, on either hand, was crowded 
 with people in gala dress, and from every 
 window, the whole length of the canal, 
 bright flags and stuffs depended, shawls 
 and variegated quilts, table-cloths, and 
 rugs, whatever would take on a festal air 
 in the sunshine. Beautiful silken ban 
 ners, too, waved from lines that spanned 
 
B JBenefcictfon 
 
 the canal, High above the heads of the 
 floating populace, their painted Saints 
 and Madonnas shot luminously through 
 by the level rays of the sun. 
 
 As the procession passed on down the 
 quay, and the high priest drew near, 
 bearing the Host under its embroidered 
 canopy, the throngs on the fondamenta 
 dropped on their knees to catch the scat 
 tered blessing, rising again, an instant 
 later, one group after another, which 
 gave to the line of figures an undulating 
 motion, as of a long, sinuous body, coiling 
 and uncoiling. 
 
 The pleasure of Vittorio s passengers 
 was not a little heightened by the proxim 
 ity of Nanni s old gondola, which lay only 
 one boat s width removed from their own, 
 and was filled to over-flowing with the 
 wives and children of his two gondolier 
 brothers. The Signorinas were by this 
 time on terms of intimacy with Vittorio s 
 family, their chief pet among the children 
 being the smallest boy, always spoken of 
 by his adoring parents as the piccolo Gio- 
 
152 21 Venetian 3une 
 
 vanni. "Pickle Johnny," Uncle Dan 
 called him, and, being a specialist in 
 names, the Colonel had no sooner invented 
 one for this small and rather obstreperous 
 manikin, than he took him into his par 
 ticular favor. 
 
 The attention of the girls, meanwhile, 
 was pretty evenly divided between the 
 moving show upon the quay and the 
 quite as active contingent in Nanni s gon 
 dola. Indeed there were about as many 
 babies in the one as in the other, for it is 
 a pretty and child-like fancy of the Vene 
 tians to dress up their children as saints 
 and angels, and lead them, with a becom 
 ing reverence, not all untouched by van 
 ity, in the wake of the holy men. Here 
 were small Franciscans in their brown 
 cowls, tiny St. Johns, clad in sheep-skins 
 and armed with crosses, little queens of 
 heaven in trailing garments of blue tarle- 
 ton, and toddling white angels, with 
 spangled wings and hair tightly crimped. 
 As the last of these heavenly appari 
 tions disappeared down a dark alley, 
 
8 JSenedtction 153 
 
 " Pickle Johnny " set up a howl of disap 
 pointment, which his mother tried in vain 
 to suppress. In vain did his father scowl 
 upon him over the heads of his passen 
 gers in a semblance of terrible wrath, in 
 vain did his uncle produce a row-lock 
 for his delectation ; " Pickle Johnny " 
 mourned the loss of the last baby angel 
 and would not be comforted. 
 
 May was looking on with an amuse 
 ment that was not without relish, when, 
 chancing to glance at the harrassed face 
 of Nanni, the most conspicuous victim of 
 " Pickle Johnny s " ill-judged exhibi 
 tion of feeling, she experienced a sudden 
 change of mood, and came instantly to 
 the rescue. 
 
 "Let me take the bambino she 
 begged. " I can make him good." 
 
 The mother, a stout, comely woman in 
 a plain black gown, demurred decorously, 
 but was glad enough to yield, and Nanni, 
 taking the child in his arms, stepped 
 across the intervening gondola, to which 
 his own was tied, and deposited his won- 
 
i54 B Venetian 5une 
 
 dering burden in the arms of the Signor- 
 ina who stood up to receive it. As he 
 did so, that flash of grateful recognition 
 which he was so chary of, crossed his grave 
 face. Then, before " Pickle Johnny " 
 could decide upon any definite line of ac 
 tion, the Signorina made haste to divert 
 his mind by surrendering to him the 
 cluster of silver trinkets which dangled 
 from her belt. Pencil and pen-knife, 
 scent-bottle, glove-buttoner, and, best of 
 all, a tiny mirror, in which he viewed his 
 still tearful countenance with undisguised 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Uncle Dan looked on indulgently, and 
 Pietro s passengers, over the way, found 
 the scene worthy of attention, as did 
 others of the floating audience. The 
 golden head, bent over the swarthy little 
 cherub, was a sight that would have at 
 tracted Oliver Ken wick s notice, for ex 
 ample, even if he had had no personal 
 interest in the chief actor. He was with 
 some New York friends, in a gondola 
 three or four boat-lengths away, and so 
 
Benediction 155 
 
 absorbed was he in the little drama, that, 
 when a remark was addressed to him that 
 called for a retort, his gift of repartee 
 quite failed him. 
 
 Presently the sound of wind instru 
 ments again made itself heard, and again 
 the procession emerged from the narrow 
 by-ways where the blessing had been 
 plentifully strewn, and moved up the 
 quay toward the three-arched bridge. 
 By this time the poor little saints and 
 angels were pretty tired and draggled. 
 The small St. John, in a very bad tem 
 per, was banging about him with his 
 cross, while the queen of heaven, reduced 
 to tears of anguished fatigue, had been 
 picked up in the strong arms of her 
 father, where she w r as on the point of 
 dropping asleep. " Pickle Johnny," too, 
 was getting fretful again, having ex 
 hausted the charms of scent-bottle and 
 toy looking-glass, and May was begin 
 ning to repent of her bargain. 
 
 "Give him to me," said Pauline. 
 " He is sleepy, poor little tot ! " 
 
156 B Venetian 3une 
 
 She took him in her arms,- and in 
 thirty seconds the little tot was fast 
 asleep. Oliver Ken wick became once 
 more available for social purposes. There 
 was nothing picturesque, nothing effec 
 tive about this ; it would not have at 
 tracted attention any more than the sight 
 of a young mother, holding her sleeping 
 child. 
 
 The gondola lay with its stern toward 
 the bridge, which the procession was 
 crossing, and Pauline sat facing the open 
 lagoon, where the sunset light already 
 showed warm and mellow. She turned 
 a bit in her seat, to see the bright ban 
 ners and the candle-flames cross the 
 bridge, and presently the high priest 
 with his attendants had paused upon 
 the central arch. At the stroke of a 
 bell the Host was lifted, and all the 
 populace fell upon their knees. Vittorio, 
 in his snowy costume, knelt at the stern 
 of his boat, Nanni, darkly clad, inclined 
 his head and bent his knee, while the 
 little children in his gondola dropped 
 
JBenefctction 157 
 
 like a flock of doves upon the floor, 
 where they huddled together, heads 
 down, and eyes peering out. Old fisher 
 men in their blue blouses, aged women, 
 stiff and slow, managed somehow to get 
 upon their knees. The Colonel stood, 
 hat in hand, facing the bridge, while 
 May glanced, with bright interest, from 
 one picturesque figure to another, not 
 ing the fact, in passing, that Geoffry 
 Daymond s hat was lifted, and Oliver 
 Kenwick s was not. 
 
 Pauline sat with her head bent over 
 the sleeping child. At the sound of the 
 third bell, which w r as the signal for all 
 that multitude to cross themselves and 
 rise to their feet, she lifted the chubby 
 hand, and made the sign of the cross 
 with it upon the little breast. She did 
 it as simply and naturally as if she had 
 been the best Catholic of them all. 
 
 A moment later, " Pickle Johnny," 
 with the blessing upon his drowsy little 
 person, had been handed back to his 
 uncle, and Vittorio was skillfully making 
 
158 B Venetian 5une 
 
 his way out among the thronging craft 
 toward the lagoon, which was swimming 
 in a golden mist. 
 
 Pietro rowed in the other direction, 
 and there was a friendly exchange of 
 greetings between the passing gondolas. 
 
 "Did you see that?" Geoffry asked, 
 as they came out upon the broad bosom 
 of the Grand Canal. 
 
 "Yes; I saw it, Geof," his mother 
 answered; "I feel as if we had all 
 received the benediction." 
 
r R 
 ti 
 
 all the ques- 
 onings and 
 probings which May 
 Beverly applied to the suc 
 cessive phenomena of the world 
 about her, she had passed her 
 twenty years as light of heart and as 
 free of real perplexities as any fifteenth- 
 century maiden in her turret chamber. 
 Prosperous and sheltered as her youth 
 had been, she had, up to this time, appre 
 hended scarcely anything of the real 
 drama of life. 
 
 Whether it was due to a seasonable and 
 
160 a Venetian 5une 
 
 inevitable development, or to a quickening 
 of the imagination caused by the potent 
 loveliness of Venice, it was certainly true 
 that the young girl was passing through 
 a new and curiously stimulating experi 
 ence. Many things had been revealed 
 to her of late, which as yet she only 
 half comprehended ; for whereas she had 
 formerly had an eye only for details, she 
 was now beginning to combine and inter 
 pret ; and having hitherto been chiefly 
 occupied with the surface, she was learn 
 ing to divine, if not to penetrate, the 
 depths. It was doubtless due to this 
 general rousing of the imagination, to 
 which she perhaps owed her unalterable 
 conviction that Vittorio s brother had, 
 in some mysterious way, been singled out 
 by misfortune, that the thought of him 
 had come to play so large a part in her 
 consciousness. 
 
 It was quite true, as she declared, that 
 neither she nor Pauline had ever suc 
 ceeded in attaining to the easy and spon 
 taneous footing with him which had been 
 
Bt Gorcello 161 
 
 established with Vittorio from the very 
 first. Vittorio was both gay and com 
 municative, and none the less a perfect 
 servant for that. He would row by the 
 hour, without volunteering a remark, yet 
 a friendly word never failed to elicit the 
 flashing smile and ready response which 
 conferred such grace upon him. A little 
 diplomacy on the part of the girls had 
 effected an entrance to his house, and to 
 his confidence. They knew that he had 
 married his Ninetta without a dowry 
 because "she pleased him," and that 
 their eldest child had died of a fever ; 
 that Constanza was the scholar of the 
 family, and Giulia the caretaker. They 
 knew that the eldest boy was named for 
 one of his grandfathers, and the second 
 for the other ; that the third bo} r , Vittorio, 
 wanted to be a soldier, and that the pic 
 colo Giovanni was going to be the best 
 gondolier of them all. They knew why 
 a light was always burning, day and 
 night, before the little image of the Ma 
 donna on the stairs, and why the whole 
 
162 B Venetian 3une 
 
 family had made a pious pilgrimage to 
 the church of San Antonio at Padua the 
 previous year. They knew how severe 
 the father of Vittorio and Nanni had 
 been to his boys ; how he had, on more 
 than one occasion, pitched them over 
 board, straight into the canal, yet how 
 he was, nevertheless, " a just man " ! 
 They were acquainted with Vittorio s 
 harmlessly revolutionary views, and with 
 his reasons for not voting. They were 
 familiar with his simple creed, to hope all 
 things and leave the rest to the Madonna. 
 And of Nanni s experiences and beliefs 
 they knew nothing. 
 
 During the week when he had served 
 them as gondolier he had never volun 
 teered a remark, and he had given only 
 the shortest possible answers when ad 
 dressed. Yet upon the mind of May, at 
 least, his personality had made a strong 
 impression. His tall, poorly clad figure, 
 swaying at the oar, his sombre, almost 
 tragic gaze, fixed straight before him, 
 his deep, grave voice, not more musical, 
 
Bt tTorcelto 163 
 
 but more perfectly modulated than his 
 brother s, all went to form an enigma 
 and an appeal. 
 
 Since his release from their service they 
 had met him several times, rowing quite 
 by himself in his shabby old gondola. 
 Once they had come upon him out by 
 St. George in the Seaweed where the 
 loveliest of all the parasol Madonnas 
 keeps guard over the still lagoon. He 
 could have had no prosaic errand there. 
 Was it because he loved the beauty of the 
 scene, the grace and poetry of the dear 
 young mother with the child, keeping 
 their watch of centuries, above the old 
 red wall where the lizards sun them 
 selves ? Or had he gone there to say 
 an ave, as the pretty Catholic custom is ? 
 
 Another time they had encountered 
 Nanni s boat when they were rowing out 
 towards San Clemente in the starlight. 
 There were stars in the water as in the 
 sky, and the city was hidden behind the 
 Giudecca, but the great campanile, show 
 ing pale and mysterious in the lights of 
 
164 & Venetian 3une 
 
 the Piazza, sent its white shaft far down 
 into the water of the lagoon on the hither 
 side of the dark Giudecca. As the shad 
 owy gondola, with its tiny light, came 
 stealing over the star-strewn water, May 
 recognized the solitary oarsman. Some 
 thing withheld her from commenting on 
 the fact, and when, a few seconds later, 
 Vittorio exclaimed, " Ecco, miofratello ! " 
 Uncle Dan had remarked what quick 
 eyes these fellows have, and that nobody 
 else could have recognized a man in the 
 dark, like that. And May had said 
 nothing, and the fact that she had kept 
 silence gave her a curious pang of un 
 willing self-consciousness. So she began 
 talking very fast of the Bellini Madonnas 
 in the church of the Redentore, whose 
 great dome towered black against the 
 hovering reflection of the city lights, and 
 of how they were not Bellinis after all, 
 and since experts could make such bad 
 blunders, whom were you to trust ? 
 
 They had had no intercourse with 
 Nanni since the day they had rowed 
 
Eorcello 165 
 
 out to the Porto del Lido, and May had 
 protested against the ocean swell. She 
 often thought of the sensation it had 
 caused in her, and a curious longing had 
 come over her to feel once more that 
 strange, disconcerting thrill. 
 
 She wondered whether she should ever 
 have a chance to speak to Nanni and 
 make him the offer of a gondola ; she 
 wondered if his face would flash with 
 pleasure and gratitude. Would he tell 
 her why he had chosen exile from the life 
 and occupation he loved so well ? Would 
 he tell her something about himself, give 
 her the key to his strange melancholy 
 and reserve? She had very little hope 
 of such a consummation, but she was de 
 termined to make the attempt at the first 
 opportunity. 
 
 And a few days after the Procession at 
 the Canareggio, when he had so grate 
 fully handed "Pickle Johnny" over to 
 her care, the opportunity presented itself. 
 For on that day the red and blue banners 
 made the long-anticipated trip to Tor- 
 
166 B Venetian 3-une 
 
 cello, that ancient cradle of Venice that 
 rocks on the bosom of the lagoon, miles 
 away to the northward. An extra oar 
 was requisite for each gondola, and 
 Nanni was drafted for the occasion. Old 
 Pietro brought with him a slender slip of 
 a grandson, a boy of sixteen, Angelo by 
 name, who made up in skill and elasticity 
 for the robustness yet to come. 
 
 Kenwick was of the party, and in great 
 spirits ; but indeed there was not one of 
 them all who was not sensible of that 
 agreeable exhilaration which attends a 
 propitious start. The morning was true 
 Venetian, soft and fair as a dream. Sweet 
 scents were wafted over the water, and no 
 one thought to question whence they 
 came. The men pulled with a will, for it 
 was a long trip, and all too soon they 
 found themselves thridding their way 
 through low banked water-ways to the 
 landing near the quaint old church of 
 Santa Fosca, their coming hailed with 
 joy by a rapidly recruited army of raga 
 muffins. Immediately upon landing Vit- 
 
Bt tTorcello l6 7 
 
 torio and Angelo were despatched to a 
 neighboring cottage in search of chairs 
 and table, and presently the party were 
 established at their luncheon under the 
 beautiful colonade of the Cathedral. 
 
 The ragamuffins, encouraged by a very 
 ill-advised distribution of coppers which 
 had taken place at their first onslaught, 
 were collecting about the table with clam 
 orous entreaties for I ultimo. Uncle Dan 
 had begun it by his inability to resist the 
 supplicating eyes of a beatific midget who 
 chewed the hem of her frock with the 
 whitest of little teeth. Kenwick, taking 
 his cue from the Colonel, had mischiev 
 ously carried out the principle, by pre 
 senting a soldo to each one of the assembly 
 having the slightest pretence to comeli 
 ness. Upon which the two Pollys, un 
 able to tolerate such cruel discrimination, 
 had offered prompt reparation to the feel 
 ings of the ugly ones. The consequence 
 was, that Vittorio and Angelo passed a 
 lively half-hour in the r61e .of sheep-dogs, 
 keeping the small and ravening wolves at 
 
Venetian June 
 
 bay while the meal was going forward, 
 dodging about after them among the pil 
 lars of the colonade, and conjuring them, 
 with awful threats, to keep their distance, 
 or else they should receive niente, niente ! 
 Happily the supply of food was double 
 the legitimate demand, and while the gon 
 doliers returned the table and chairs the 
 two young men amused themselves and 
 the rest of the company, by feeding the 
 little beggars. It was an engrossing 
 sport for all concerned, and May, seeing 
 her opportunity, slipped away to the 
 landing. 
 
 She found the two gondolas moored a 
 few rods down the rio, lying close to the 
 shore in the shadow of the alder bushes 
 that leaned sociably over the bank. Pie- 
 tro was lying flat on the floor of his boat, 
 fast asleep ; Nanni, whose gondola was 
 the first she came to, was sitting in the 
 bow with a book in his hand, which he 
 slipped into his pocket at the approach of 
 the Signorina. His hat was lying on the 
 floor, and the flickering shadows of the 
 
Bt Gorcello 169 
 
 leaves on his face and figure made a peace 
 ful impression of summer and happy ease. 
 
 " Oh, Nanni ; would you please hand 
 me my sketch book?" May asked, as 
 she came up, and stood on the bank above 
 him. He was already on his feet, and he 
 stooped for the book, which he handed to 
 her with his curiously inexpressive man 
 ner. 
 
 The young girl hesitated a moment, 
 half abashed by the stillness and the soli 
 tude and the stately deference of this 
 man whose life she was so desirous of in 
 fluencing. But she had too much spirit 
 to retreat, and as Nanni stood before her, 
 grave and respectful, she said, in her 
 carefully correct, curiously unidiomatic 
 Italian : " Nanni, I am not content to 
 have you go back to Milan. You were 
 born to be a gondolier. It cannot be that 
 you do anything else as well, or that you 
 like any other life, really. Wait," she 
 commanded, as he seemed about to inter 
 pose. " You must let me finish. I want, 
 I want " and a sudden confusion 
 
170 B Venetian 3une 
 
 seized her ; "I want to make you a pres 
 ent of a gondola." 
 
 She paused and looked down upon him, 
 with earnest, supplicating eyes. She did 
 so dearly long to gain her point ; she was 
 so sure, so touchingly sure that she knew 
 best, and then, the face before her, 
 what was it that it said ? There was no 
 grateful flash, only an increased dig 
 nity and reserve. 
 
 "Signorina," he said, very gently, 
 with a high-bred restraint of manner that 
 impressed her strangely, and increased 
 her confusion, adding to it, indeed, a sense 
 of insufficiency and incompetence that 
 she had never before experienced : " Sig 
 norina, you mistake me and my life. I 
 am not at liberty to say what would surely 
 set your mind at rest, but, I have no 
 wish to change my life, and, I cannot 
 accept your gift." 
 
 She had thought to press the matter, 
 to represent to him his own short-sighted 
 ness, his misapprehension of his own best 
 good ; but she found it impossible to urge 
 
Bt Gorcello 
 
 her case. She felt herself confronted with 
 a will so much stronger than her own 
 that she had not a word to say. She 
 only murmured : " I am very sorry about 
 it," and was turning dejectedly away, 
 when Nanni s voice arrested her. 
 
 "Signorina," he cried, " Signorina, 
 will you not forgive me ? " 
 
 She turned, and there was a look of 
 entreaty, a touch of real emotion in his 
 face which startled her. 
 
 Why, Naimi," she said ; "there is 
 nothing to forgive. You know best." 
 She had not often said those three words 
 in the easy self-confidence of her youth. 
 "You know best," she said. "It is I 
 who should beg pardon for thinking I 
 knew." 
 
 She held out her hand to him, as 
 naturally as she would have done to 
 Geoffry Daymond, and Nanni, stooping, 
 lifted it to his lips. 
 
 The child did not know that it was the 
 universal custom of his class ; that there 
 was nothing else to be done when a 
 
172 B Venetian Sune 
 
 gentlewoman extended her hand to a 
 gondolier. She only knew it was the 
 first time in her life that such a thing had 
 happened to her, and she turned away in 
 much perturbation. 
 
 She found herself face to face with 
 Geoffry Daymond, who was coming along 
 the bank in search of her. 
 
 "Ah, here you are," he cried gaily. 
 " We thought we might have made a 
 mistake and fed you to the populace ! 
 The little brutes have eaten every edible 
 crumb we had, and seemed to want to 
 try their appetites on the table-cloth. 
 Now we are all going up the tower of 
 the cathedral to have a look at things." 
 
 She wondered whether Daymond had 
 seen that strange and rather dreadful 
 thing that had happened. Had she 
 known him better, she would have been 
 sure that his burst of eloquence could 
 have but one interpretation. He had 
 seen and wondered ; two facts which 
 must be suppressed. 
 
 As May and Geof came up the path, 
 
Bt ftorcello 173 
 
 Kenwick, who was sitting in the stone 
 chair which is accredited to the ancient 
 Attila, observed the look of slowly sub 
 siding emotion in the young girl s face, 
 and a sudden pang seized him, whether 
 of friendly concern or of selfish annoy 
 ance, he would have been the last to in 
 quire. That they should have passed 
 him by, in his picturesque situation, with 
 out a word, thus cutting him off from 
 the delivery of a witticism which he had 
 concocted for their edification, was cer 
 tainly a grievance, and as he rose to his 
 feet, unregarded, and followed after, it is 
 perhaps not to be wondered at, if the 
 thought crossed his mind, that it might 
 be worth while to cut Geof out. 
 
1T1T. B promotion. 
 
 ^ ORCELLO offers a number of diver- 
 Vi/ sions besides that of camping under 
 the colonade, or sitting in the chair of 
 Attila, and May had soon found relief 
 from her momentary discomfiture, in the 
 somewhat arduous exercise of climbing 
 to the top of the cathedral tower, and in 
 readjusting her mistaken notions as to 
 the relative position of the various islands 
 in the northern lagoon. Venice, floating 
 like a dream-city upon the brimming tide, 
 was not at all in the direction in which 
 May had expected to find it ; indeed, so 
 fixed was her idea of its proper where 
 abouts, that she was within an ace of 
 becoming argumentative on the subject. 
 174 
 
B promotion 175 
 
 Her amusingly irrational attitude gave 
 rise to some lively sparring between her 
 self and Kenwick, who was at even more 
 pains than usual to monopolize her at 
 tention, both then and afterwards. 
 
 On their return to sea-level, it was he 
 who pointed out to her each detail of the 
 antique mosaics and other mediaeval 
 quaintnesses of the cathedral ; it was he 
 who gave her a rapid sketch of the his 
 tory of the island, recently gleaned from 
 guide-books; and when, presently, the 
 whole party went for a stroll in a flower- 
 strewn meadow, he took such decided 
 possession of her, that the two were al 
 lowed to fall back, and discuss at their 
 leisure one and another question of vital 
 interest which he brought forward. 
 
 In the intervals of conversation Ken- 
 wick, watching the straggling group in 
 front, found it curiously gratifying to ob 
 serve that Daymond did not seem to have 
 much to say for himself. Kenwick had 
 not by any means made tip his mind to 
 cut Geof out, but the possibility of such 
 
Venetian 3une 
 
 a feat gave a new zest to his intercourse 
 with May. He was one of those men 
 who, in their admirations at least, un 
 consciously take their cue from others. 
 His judgments were not spontaneous, 
 and the value he placed upon any good 
 thing was greatly enhanced by the knowl 
 edge that it was an object of desire to 
 other persons. Even in the pursuit of 
 his art, he was governed less by a spirit 
 of praiseworthy emulation than by the 
 sentiment of rivalry. 
 
 Having, then, definitely conceived the 
 idea, which had, indeed, been hovering 
 in his mind for some time, that Geoffrey 
 Daymorid was seriously interested in May 
 Beverly, the situation had gained a 
 piquancy which Kenwick found ex 
 tremely seductive. He was far too wed 
 ded to his career of " free-lance," a 
 title which he took no little pride in 
 appropriating, to have regarded with 
 equanimity that awkward contingency 
 which goes by the name of consequences, 
 but he was fond of playing with fire, as 
 
ftromotiott 177 
 
 over self-confident people are apt to be. 
 It must also be admitted that he took a 
 very real pleasure in the bright beauty 
 and alert intellect of the young student 
 of life who carried her golden head so 
 high and free, and with so individual a 
 grace. 
 
 That he could, if he would, gain an 
 influence over this frankly impressionable 
 nature, he did not for a moment doubt. 
 Indeed, he had never doubted his ability 
 to win the interest of any woman, and 
 since he had never been so ill-advised as 
 to put his fortunes to the touch, nothing 
 had yet occurred to disturb his self-con 
 fidence. 
 
 To-day, as he sauntered beside May 
 Beverly in the quiet green meadow, in 
 shadow for the moment, only because a 
 cloud had floated across the sun, so re 
 cently, that the insects had not ceased to 
 hum, and sweet odors still told how herbs 
 and flowers had been steeped in sunshine 
 but a moment since, he experienced a 
 relish of life such as had only occasionally 
 
B Venetian 5une 
 
 fallen to his share. And when, presently, 
 the sun came out in full force, inducing 
 the four more taciturn strollers to retrace 
 their steps, Kenwick felt that blaze of 
 light to be doubly inopportune. 
 
 A few minutes later the flotilla was 
 again on its way, awnings spread, and 
 flags flying. A breeze had sprung up, 
 and when they were free of the Burano 
 canals, they found the water delicately 
 ruffled. It was the sweetest, gayest little 
 breeze, and in sheer exuberance of shallow 
 emotion, the tiny waves plashed about 
 the prow. 
 
 May, who was sailing under the blue 
 banner on this occasion, glanced now and 
 then across the water, at the figure of 
 Nanni, rowing the forward oar. She 
 had not quite her usual vivacity, a fact 
 which did not escape the attention of 
 Kenwick in the other boat, and one upon 
 which he was at liberty to put any inter 
 pretation he chose. 
 
 The tide was in their favor, and they 
 were making such good speed that the 
 
B promotion 179 
 
 oarsmen petitioned for a detour among 
 the canals of San Erasmus, where are 
 market-gardens and fields and hedges. 
 It was here that Geof had listened to the 
 whistle of the black-bird only the other 
 day, as his boat lay moored to the bank, 
 while he sketched the tiniest of little 
 chapels, nestling modestly in the sparse 
 shade of two dark cypresses. His mind 
 recurred to that peaceful hour, as he chat 
 ted in desultory fashion with May, but 
 those quiet musings seemed very far away 
 and unreal in the clear, matter-of-fact 
 atmosphere that that charming young 
 person created about her, even in her 
 quieter moods. To still further deter him 
 from sentimental reminiscences, two small 
 curs rushed forward on the left bank of 
 the tranquil water pathway, barking 
 vigorously, and rousing to an equally 
 noisy demonstration another pair of sen 
 tinels on the opposite shore. 
 
 As the gondolas went their way, how 
 ever, without evincing any intention of 
 trespassing on dry land, the dogs sub- 
 
i8o B Venetian 5une 
 
 sided, and in the sudden lull that followed, 
 other senses than that of hearing were 
 quickened. May was just rousing to 
 wonder what it was that smelt so sweet, 
 when Angelo, unable to resist the occa 
 sion, turned, and touching his hat, re 
 marked, with laconic eloquence : Straw 
 berries " ; a suggestion which was not to 
 be resisted. 
 
 They moored at a modest landing, in 
 the shadow of an acacia tree, when Geof 
 and Angelo were promptly dispatched 
 upon a foraging expedition, the ambi 
 tious stripling, who had so boldly taken the 
 initiative, beaming broadly at the success 
 of his venture. May stepped forward and 
 took her favorite seat on the gondola steps, 
 and, as the other boat came up and tied 
 to theirs, Kenwick was brought face to 
 face with her. 
 
 " Strawberries? " he repeated, in reply 
 to the joyful announcement ; my life is 
 saved ! " Then, in a low voice : " I have 
 been simply starving ever since we left 
 Torcello, he averred. 
 
B promotion iSi 
 
 "You have?" May exclaimed, with 
 discouraging literalness. I suppose it 
 is the breeze, or perhaps the walk in the 
 meadows." 
 
 "Yes," Kenwick answered, and there 
 was something so very like sincerity in 
 his tone, that it did convey a dim im 
 pression of what was almost a genu 
 ine feeling; "it was the walk in the 
 meadow ! " 
 
 May laughed lightly, yet a trifle con 
 strainedly, he pleased himself with fancy 
 ing. "You shall starve no more," she 
 said, " for here are the strawberries." 
 
 The two ambassadors were striding 
 down a rural path, their hands laden with 
 small baskets of diminutive scarlet straw 
 berries. At their heels came three dogs 
 and one cat, acting as van-guard to a 
 woman and a young girl, who carried 
 blue china plates of most aesthetic home 
 liness. A small and bashful boy was 
 clinging to his mother s skirts, taking, 
 perhaps, his first impressions of the great 
 world. 
 
182 21 Denetian 
 
 Scusi, Signorina ! 
 
 It was Nanni, stepping across Pietro s 
 gondola to get ashore. May looked up 
 and her eyes met those of the gondolier. 
 
 " Prcgo" she answered, and there was 
 a gentle courtesy in her voice, and a kind 
 ness in her eyes, that would have been 
 grateful to any man. As Nanni stepped 
 ashore and joined his brother and old 
 Pietro under the trees, it may be that he 
 blessed her for them. But he had betrayed 
 no pleasure, and once more a sense of 
 the sadness of life stole like a shadow 
 across the young girl s spirit. 
 
 To divert her thoughts, and to have an 
 excuse for turning her back on Kenwick, 
 she tried making friends with the basliful 
 bambino, who had seated himself upon 
 the grassy bank and was gazing furtively 
 at her bright silk waist. 
 
 Kenwick took the little ruse kindly. 
 He had noticed that she spoke to Nanni 
 in a subdued tone, and he flattered him 
 self that he had the key to her change of 
 mood. He employed himself with hand- 
 
B promotion 
 
 ing plates about, while Geof dispensed 
 the strawberries. 
 
 It was a pretty and peaceful scene. 
 Ken wick had stepped into Mrs. Day- 
 moiid s gondola, and was invited to take 
 the seat beside her ; Geof stood on the 
 shore, talking with the men. Uncle Dan 
 and Pauline, sitting side by side, found 
 their attention about equally divided 
 between the toothsome strawberries and 
 the little drama going on between May 
 and the bambino. 
 
 May had shared her fruit with the 
 child, and now she was amusing herself 
 with decorating his small, grimy toes with 
 coppers. He was an unsophisticated 
 little beggar, and evidently had no intel 
 ligent interest in the cool, round coins, 
 which nevertheless tickled his brown toes 
 agreeably. He looked up and smiled, 
 showing a row of tiny white teeth, and 
 with the movement all the coppers slid 
 off into the grass. 
 
 The mother had been watching the 
 little scene, and May had a comfortable 
 
21 Venetian 
 
 assurance that that wealth of soldi would 
 presently be restored to its legitimate 
 function in the scheme of things. She 
 turned from her pretty fooling, and Ken- 
 wick promptly remarked : Are you 
 aware that you have sown the seeds of 
 mendicancy in the soul of that innocent 
 child?" 
 
 " Oh, no ; those were nothing but cop 
 pers," she retorted brightly, "and I have 
 sown them in the grass." 
 
 They had spent half-an-hour at their 
 picnicking, and now a new division of 
 the party was proposed, according to 
 which the four young people should row 
 out a bit toward the Porto, leaving the 
 elders, in Pietro s gondola, to take the 
 more direct way home. And so it came 
 about that presently the Colonel found 
 himself, floating with the Signora down 
 the quiet rio by which they had entered 
 the vignoli. So elderly was the aspect of 
 the gondola with its three gray heads to 
 one black one, that the very dogs refrained 
 from barking, and in the grateful hush, 
 
promotion 185 
 
 broken only by the dip of the oar, and 
 the not all unmelodious creak of Pietro s 
 heavy boots, the liquid note of the black 
 bird sounded sweet and clear. 
 
 The reflection crossed the Colonel s 
 mind that this was the first time, in all 
 these weeks, that he had been alone with 
 the Signora. He wondered, in a self- 
 distrustful way, what would come of it. 
 It was certainly very sweet to him to have 
 her there beside him, quite to himself. 
 He wondered whether it struck her that 
 it was an intimate, confidential sort of 
 situation. He was sitting a little for 
 ward, as his habit was, and as he glanced 
 under the awning, at the pretty, rural bit 
 of country that bordered the canal, it was 
 easy to include her face in his survey from 
 time to time. 
 
 They chatted for a while of this and 
 that indifferent topic, but it was clear that 
 they were both preoccupied and they soon 
 fell silent. The Colonel, indeed, was 
 nervously sensible that fate was closing 
 in about him, and that he might, at any 
 
Venetian Sune 
 
 moment, be betrayed into a false step. 
 For, despite his practical, Yankee com 
 mon sense, the old soldier was something 
 of a fatalist, and in the one most critical 
 relation of his life, he had always felt 
 himself subject to mysterious and irre 
 sistible influences. 
 
 Presently, as they came out upon the 
 sparkling waters of the lagoon, the Sig- 
 nora spoke. There was something in her 
 voice that caused the Colonel to turn, at 
 the first word, and as he looked into her 
 face, he pleased himself with noting a new 
 animation, that seemed a direct reflex of 
 the light that played upon the waters. 
 Had he not long ago discovered that 
 mystic kinship ? 
 
 " Geof and I are very grateful to you," 
 she was saying, "for bringing those 
 charming girls of yours to Venice." 
 
 " You like them ! " he exclaimed. " I 
 knew you would. Nice girls, both of 
 them. It has been a great thing for 
 them, having you here, and Geof. Geof s 
 a capital fellow." 
 
B promotion l8 7 
 
 She turned upon her companion a ques 
 tioning, yet on the whole a pretty confi 
 dent look. Colonel Steele, she asked, 
 " should you greatly mind if one of your 
 Pollys should find it in her heart to make 
 my boy happy?" 
 
 "What s that?" the Colonel cried. 
 "You don t mean? Bless my soul, I 
 never thought of such a thing ! " 
 
 " It seems the most natural thing in 
 the world to me," she said. " And yet, 
 supposing your Polly should fail us ! I 
 can t expect Geof to be as irresistible to 
 other people as he is to me." She smiled, 
 as if she were half in jest, yet there was 
 real anxiety in her tone as she asked : 
 "What do you think about it, Colonel 
 Steele?" 
 
 " Why ; I m sure I don t know. It s 
 something of a shock, that sort of thing 
 always is, you know. Young people do 
 go into it so easily. Of course Geof s a 
 fine fellow. You mean the little one ? 
 
 "Of course," said Mrs. Daymond ; for 
 though Pauline was far from little, she 
 
188 B Venetian June 
 
 had not the height of her tall young 
 sister. 
 
 Of course, of course. Well, well ! 
 And you want to know what I think 
 about it ? I think she would be a lucky 
 girl. That would make her your daugh 
 ter, would n t it ? Why, of course she 11 
 say yes ! Any girl would be a fool who 
 did n t, and Polly s no fool. I only wish 
 you had another son for the other one ! 
 "I m afraid she won t take Geof for 
 my sake," Mrs. Daymond said, smiling, 
 half sadly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, she will ; I m sure she will ! " 
 cried the Colonel. " But what I don t 
 understand is Geof. To be taken with 
 a child like Polly, when, " He turned 
 sharp about, and looked into her face, 
 and there was no mistaking his meaning. 
 It was almost as if he had spoken the 
 words she had so often heard from his 
 lips. 
 
 A great tenderness and compunction 
 swept over the Signora, and found ex 
 pression in her face. Her beautiful gray 
 
B promotion 189 
 
 eyes met the impassioned trouble of her 
 old friend s gaze, with a gentle directness 
 that in itself went far toward disarming 
 and tranquillizing him. 
 
 "I sometimes think," she said, "that 
 perhaps this is what all our trouble has 
 meant, yours and mine." 
 
 There was something indescribably con 
 soling in the community of sorrow the 
 words seemed to imply. He had never 
 thought before, that his lifelong chagrin 
 had awakened anything more than a mo 
 mentary regret in her mind, that it had 
 been a sorrow to her, as well. 
 
 They were rowing past the cypresses 
 of San Michele, and the Colonel lifted his 
 hat and placed it on his knees, looking 
 straight before him, with the slightest 
 possible working of the muscles of his 
 face. The voice he was listening to was 
 sweet and low, the tender cadence of it 
 seemed to inform the words she used with 
 a spirit not inherent in them. 
 
 "I think," she was saying, "that I 
 should be perfectly happy if I could know 
 
IDenetian 
 
 that the long misunderstanding that has 
 caused us both so much pain, had had a 
 meaning as sweet and acceptable to you 
 as it would be to me." 
 
 The Colonel pulled out his pocket- 
 handkerchief and wiped his forehead, 
 surreptitiously including his eyes in the 
 process. 
 
 "I ve been a brute," he muttered, in 
 rather a husky voice, scowling savagely 
 into the crown of his hat, which he had 
 lifted from his knees. As if displeased 
 with its appearance, he put it on his 
 head, where he planted it firmly. 
 
 She knew that she had all but won the 
 day, and she ventured what she had not 
 ventured before. For it had never been 
 her way to prate of an impossible friend 
 ship ; if she used the word she meant to 
 honor it. And to-day something- told 
 her that at last she held control of the 
 situation. 
 
 There was nothing in her voice to be 
 tray the intense exertion of will that she 
 was conscious of making; on the con- 
 
B ipromotlon 191 
 
 trary, her words sounded only wistful 
 and entreating, as she said : 
 
 "What friends we should be ! " 
 
 And because it was the first time she 
 had made that appeal to him, and because 
 these weeks of pleasant, normal compan 
 ionship had subtly and surely changed 
 their relation, the Colonel could meet her 
 half-way, like the gallant fellow he was. 
 
 "What friends we shall be ! " he cried, 
 clasping the hand which she had invol 
 untarily lifted. "And we won t let it 
 depend upon those youngsters, either ! 
 
 The gondola had entered one of the 
 canals of the city, and presently they 
 passed under a bridge and came out in 
 front of the square of San Paolo and San 
 Giovanni, where the superb statue of 
 Coleoni on his magnificent charger standi 
 clear-cut against the sky. 
 
 "Glorious thing, that," the Colonel 
 remarked, as he invariably did, as often 
 as his eye fell upon it. 
 
 "Yes," she replied; "It is the very 
 apotheosis of success. And yet, one 
 
Venetian $une 
 
 sometimes questions whether a. perfectly 
 successful man is as enviable as he 
 seems. What do you think about it, 
 Colonel?" 
 
 "Signora," the Colonel answered, 
 with a flash of feeling in his rugged feat 
 ures that would have done credit to 
 Vittorio s expressive face, " I have had 
 my promotion, and I envy no man ! " 
 
$1Pflir. Illuminations. 
 
 Geoffry Daymond 
 had known no more 
 about Nanni than was 
 known to May herself, the 
 little incident which had 
 caused such perturbation 
 in the young girl s mind 
 would not have made any special impres 
 sion upon him. The scene itself, indeed, 
 might have lingered in his mind as one of 
 those charming surprises that lurk in the 
 enchanted atmosphere of the lagoons. 
 The striking beauty of Nanni s counten 
 ance is the possession of many an honest 
 gondolier, nor would the glow of feeling 
 which animated the face, have been any 
 thing unprecedented in a man of his class. 
 Old Pietro himself, slumbering at that 
 13 193 
 
i94 B Venetian 3-une 
 
 moment on the floor of his gondola, often 
 exhibited a startling power of facial 
 expression, which fairly transfigured his 
 weather-worn features. No, in a simple 
 gondolier, both beauty of face and bril 
 liancy and depth of expression are quite 
 in the natural order. And if it is not 
 often that one sees these advantages 
 heightened by so admirable a foil as was 
 provided on this occasion, it is simply 
 because such vivid grace of the contrast 
 ing type is rare. 
 
 Geoffry s first sensation then, as he 
 caught sight of the two figures, was one 
 of gratification to his artistic sense ; and 
 even when May extended her hand, and 
 Nanni, after the custom of the gondolier, 
 raised it to his lips, it did not at once 
 strike the young man as other than nat 
 ural and fitting. In an instant, however, 
 he recalled the fact, which he had learned 
 of Pietro a month previous, that this was 
 no mere gondolier, but a man of educa 
 tion and consequence in the world ; a 
 circumstance which, undeniably, put a 
 
fllluminatfcms 195 
 
 different face upon the matter. It ac 
 counted too, perhaps, for the curiously 
 appealing impression of the man s per 
 sonality. There was undoubtedly some 
 thing pathetic in this son of a line of 
 gondoliers, reaching back farther than 
 many a titled family, this man with an 
 innate love for the craft, a genuine pas 
 sion for the lagoons, placed in the artifi 
 cial environment of modern society, 
 constrained to deal with the hard-and- 
 fast exactions of modern science. No 
 wonder that there was that about him 
 that excited the imagination. Geof had 
 himself felt it ; his mother had spoken 
 of it. Who could know how powerful 
 the appeal might be to one who had not 
 the key to the puzzle ? 
 
 When, therefore, Geof came upon the 
 little drama being enacted among the 
 alders at Torcello, with a grace and fer 
 vor which was for an instant, but only 
 for an instant captivating, he experienced 
 a feeling of vague dissatisfaction, which 
 was much accentuated by the sight of the 
 
Venetian 3-une 
 
 young girl s evident emotion, as she 
 turned and faced him unexpectedly. 
 
 He did a good deal of pondering in 
 the course of that day and the next, and, 
 as he was quite unable to justify, or even 
 to formulate his anxieties, he wished 
 that he might at least find out whether 
 the truth in regard to the gondolier were 
 known to May. That might throw some 
 light upon the subject. 
 
 He was aware, to be sure, of the Colo 
 nel s studied secrecy in the matter, but 
 secrets are ticklish things at the best, 
 and no stray hint was likely to have been 
 lost upon a girl of May s intelligence. 
 He had a notion that, if he could get a 
 word with Nanni himself, it would be 
 easy to sound him on the point ; a delu 
 sion that was destined to be early dissi 
 pated. 
 
 On the second morning following the 
 Torcello trip, Geof was swimming in the 
 Adriatic, far out beyond the line of 
 bathers, shouting and splashing in the 
 shallows. There, under a dazzling sky, 
 
fl Humiliations 
 
 with a strong wind blowing, and white- 
 caps careering about, he came face to face 
 with the subject of his speculations. 
 The incongruity of catechizing a man of 
 his countenance was instantly apparent. 
 
 " Buon giorno, Signorc" said Nanni, 
 and Daymond found himself returning 
 the salutation with a courtesy that was 
 little short of deferential. The two men 
 had met upon a common footing, if the 
 watery deep may be said to furnish one, 
 and Geof had found himself at a disad 
 vantage. 
 
 The incident did not altogether allay 
 his friendly solicitude ; on the contrary, 
 he was abashed and confounded at this 
 evidence of the power of the Italian s 
 personality ; and yet, he was more defi 
 nitely conscious than he had hitherto 
 been, of a certain racial nobility in the 
 man which commanded confidence. 
 
 The wind, that had been a sportive, if 
 somewhat riotous breeze in the morning, 
 gained in force as the day went on. 
 There W 7 ere few gondolas out in the after- 
 
198 B Venetian 3une 
 
 noon, and Geof went about on foot. He 
 walked the length of the wind-swept 
 Riva degli Schiavoni, and then he struck 
 across the city, by narrow alleys and 
 picturesque, out-of-the-way squares, and 
 looked in at certain churches for which 
 the guide-books recommend the after 
 noon light. Toward the end of the day 
 he found his way back to the Piazza. 
 
 The great square was in holiday guise, 
 in honor of some guest of the city. 
 From the three famous flag-staffs in front 
 of San Marco the colors of Italy were 
 floating, rolling and unrolling upon the 
 breeze, in gracefully undulating folds. 
 Men were affixing additional gas-jets to 
 the great candelabra, making ready for 
 the evening illumination. 
 
 Just as Geof arrived upon the scene, a 
 boy, with a paper of corn in each out 
 stretched hand, came running down the 
 length of the Piazza, followed by a flutter 
 ing swarm of pigeons, hundreds of them 
 on the wing, in hot pursuit of the flying 
 provender. The wings made a sound of 
 
Illuminations 199 
 
 multitudinous flapping that was singu 
 larly agreeable to the ear. Geof watched 
 their laughing tormenter until he stopped 
 for breath near the base of the campanile, 
 and, in an instant, the pigeons were 
 alighting on his arms and shoulders, and 
 gathering in an eager, gurgling mass 
 about his feet. The corn fell in a golden 
 shower among them, and great was the 
 jostling and gobbling and short was the 
 duration of that golden shower. 
 
 Geof turned in at the open door of San 
 Marco, and found his way to one of his 
 favorite haunts, a certain dimly sump 
 tuous side-chapel, where a hint of incense 
 always hovers, and a whispered echo, as 
 of long-past avcs and salves, lingers on the 
 air. Curious carvings are there, and bits 
 of gleaming gold and silver, and, between 
 the pillars, enchanting vistas open out 
 into the transept, or down the mosaic- 
 laid floor of the nave, polished smooth 
 by the feet of generations of worshippers. 
 
 As he tarried there, the familiar sense 
 of passive content which he had had of 
 
200 B Venetian Suite 
 
 late stole upon him, and he was aware 
 that a certain face and voice were again 
 present with him. Why, he wondered, 
 since it was of other things he had been 
 thinking all day long, why did that 
 face and voice come to him? Was it 
 merely a habit of mind, a trick of thought 
 engendered by this idle, aimless Venetian 
 life? Or was it a natural association of 
 pure and lovely impressions ? 
 
 And there, in the rich gloom of the 
 great basilica, traced out and accentu 
 ated, as it were, by long bars of light 
 that made a golden pathway down from 
 the high western windows, a light en 
 tered into his mind, and he knew what 
 his mother had divined long ago. 
 
 There was no shock of surprise in the 
 discovery, only a deep, vitalizing satis 
 faction. It seemed as natural, as inevi 
 table, that he should love Pauline Beverly, 
 as that he should love his life. He knew 
 that he had loved her from the hour of 
 their first meeting ; it seemed to him that 
 he had loved her all his life. He was 
 
Illuminations 201 
 
 glad that the realization of it had come to 
 him here in the beautiful church where 
 he had first seen her face. Yet, as he 
 stood looking down the marvellous per 
 spectives of the great sanctuary, only 
 dimly seen in the veiled and brooding 
 light, he felt that the time was past for 
 idle musings, that it behooved him to be 
 stir himself, to get out into the daylight 
 and begin to live. 
 
 He walked down the nave, and out 
 into the gay Piazza, where he was not 
 surprised to find that the aspect of things 
 had changed. The flags were still rising 
 and falling 011 the breeze, unfolding their 
 radiant colors to the declining sun ; the 
 deep- throated bell of the campanile, which 
 has sounded so many a summons to great 
 deeds, was solemnly tolling the hour ; a 
 Franciscan brother stepped across the 
 pavement, bent doubtless upon an errand 
 of mercy. The young man read a new 
 suggestion in each of these familiar sights 
 and sounds. He turned and looked back 
 at San Marco, at the outline of its cluster- 
 
202 B Venetian 5une 
 
 ing domes, at its carvings and mosaics, 
 gleaming in full sunshine. In his ex 
 alted frame of mind, all these things 
 seemed translated into large and sig 
 nificant meanings ; patriotism, philan 
 thropy, art, his own art, architecture. 
 He wondered what fine thing it would 
 be vouchsafed him to do, to win the girl 
 he loved. 
 
 Geoffry Daymond was by nature mod 
 est ; the accident of worldly prosperity, 
 of personal success, had not changed that ; 
 but he was equally by nature determined. 
 Though he felt that something very tre 
 mendous would be required of him before 
 he could enter into his kingdom, he never 
 for an instant doubted that he should win. 
 And so it happened, that, as he walked 
 away across the Piazza, his step rang 
 firmer and sharper than ever, and he held 
 his head with the air of a man not easily 
 daunted. 
 
 The wind did not go down with the 
 sun, and, when evening came, Geof felt 
 pretty sure that he should find Pauline 
 
illuminations 203 
 
 in the Piazza. Accordingly, he went 
 there in search of her ; yet when he came 
 upon her, sitting with May and the Colo 
 nel at a little round table in front of Flo- 
 rian s, he found very little to say for 
 himself, in response to her friendly greet 
 ing. He joined them at their after-din 
 ner coffee, but he said he had had his 
 smoke, and when, presently, May ex 
 pressed a laudable desire to go and see 
 what the moon was about, he could do no 
 less than offer to escort her. 
 
 " Won t you come, Miss Beverly ? " he 
 asked, but there was a constraint in his 
 tone, which to Pauline s mind could have 
 but one interpretation. 
 
 " Thank you, no ; " she said. " I will 
 keep Uncle Dan company. We have not 
 finished our coffee yet." 
 
 As they walked away, Uncle Dan 
 looked after the two comely figures, with 
 a newly acquired intelligence of observa 
 tion. Presently he coughed, discreetly, 
 and asked, with a great effort at being 
 merely conversational : " Did it ever 
 
204 B Venetian 3une 
 
 strike you, Polly, that young Daymond 
 was getting er attentive ? " 
 
 Pauline, too, had followed them with a 
 look of affectionate good- will, which deep 
 ened to a very sweet and wistful smile, as 
 she answered : " Yes, Uncle Dan ; I think 
 he likes May. How could he help it ? " 
 
 "Now that s odd," the Colonel ex 
 claimed; "Do you know, I had never 
 thought of such a thing. It was the Sig- 
 nora that put it into my head." 
 
 " And you are glad, are you not, Uncle 
 Dan ? You would like to have it hap 
 pen ? 
 
 " Yes, }^es ; of course, for his mother s 
 sake." 
 
 Pauline was still watching May and 
 her companion. They had walked on, 
 easily distinguishable in the crowd by 
 reason of their height, and now they were 
 standing a little apart, near the base of 
 the campanile, in the full light of the illu 
 mination. May was talking, her skirts 
 and ribbons fluttering in the breeze. 
 Geof stood beside her listening, his head 
 
Illuminations 205 
 
 bent slightly, with a certain chivalry of 
 bearing which was characteristic of him. 
 The wind made no more impression upon 
 his firm, close-reefed figure, than upon 
 the mighty shaft of the great bell-tower. 
 "I wish it for his own sake, Uncle 
 Dan," Pauline said. "I do not know 
 any one I should be more willing to 
 
 trust." 
 
 "You don t say so ! Well, he s his 
 mother s son, and that is half the battle." 
 
 "Yes," Pauline admitted; "that is 
 the way I felt too, at first. But now I 
 know him better it is for himself I like 
 him. He is so strong, and steady, and 
 good evening, Mr. Kenwick." 
 
 " Ah, good evening ! I was sure that 
 unless you had blown away in the course 
 of the day, I should find you in these 
 classic precincts. No, thanks ; I ve had 
 my coffee, or something answering re 
 motely to that description. What has 
 become of your sister, Miss Beverly? 
 She is getting as chary of herself as an 
 Italian pronoun." 
 
206 B Venetian $une 
 
 " She was here a moment ago," Pau 
 line replied; "she has gone with Mr. 
 Daymond to pay her respects to the 
 moon." 
 
 "Really," said Kenwick, with a hint 
 of annoyance in his manner, to conceal 
 which he continued talking volubly. 
 Now I should have thought you would 
 have been the one to go moon-gazing. 
 I should not have associated your sister 
 with the pale and melancholy orb." 
 
 "You are very penetrating, Mr. Ken- 
 wick. But I don t think you would find 
 the moon especially pale or melancholy 
 this evening. It seemed in high good 
 humor as we caught a glimpse of it on 
 our way over here." 
 
 "Mr. Ken wick s penetration is too 
 subtle for a plain man s comprehension," 
 Uncle Dan observed. The persistency 
 with which the Colonel bemistered Ken- 
 wick was an unmistakable sign of disap 
 proval. 
 
 " Colonel Steele, I am guiltless of 
 subtlety," Kenwick declared in his most 
 
Illuminations 207 
 
 humorous manner; " I, too, am a plain 
 man. But, if you will pardon the plati 
 tude, we all know that there is one beauty 
 of the sun, and another beauty of the 
 moon, and it would be pure affectation 
 to ignore the fact." 
 
 "Apropos of the heavenly bodies, 
 when is the Urania to sail?" Pauline 
 asked. She feared that Kenwick might 
 go in pursuit of Geof and May, who had 
 disappeared round the corner into the 
 Piazzetta, and knowing that he liked to 
 talk of his millionaire friends and their 
 steam-yacht, she proceeded to draw him 
 out upon the subject. 
 
 May and Geof, meanwhile, secure from 
 interruption, thanks to Pauline s little 
 strategy, were strolling in the Piazzetta, 
 now facing the moon-lit, wind-swept 
 lagoon, glittering beyond the pillars in a 
 thousand broken reflections ; now study 
 ing the figures of the four porphyry con 
 spirators, engaged in their eternal task 
 of mystification at the corner of San 
 Marco. That all attempts should have 
 
208 B tDenetian June 
 
 failed to settle the character and so 
 cial standing of those red-complexioned, 
 rather dull-witted gentlemen, who clasped 
 one another in such undecipherable opac 
 ity, was almost more than May could 
 bear. 
 
 Don t you think the archaeologists 
 are rather stupid to have given up the 
 riddle?" she asked, as she and her es 
 cort turned away and stepped out again 
 into the Piazza. 
 
 "I dare say they are," Geof laughed, 
 "but I m sure that those flat-nosed fel 
 lows are much more entertaining than 
 they would be if they had been labelled. 
 Jove! What a sight that is !" 
 
 He had suddenly turned and looked up 
 at the front of San Marco, gleaming in 
 the brilliant illumination, like a shrine 
 studded with precious stones. In the 
 concentrated light of hundreds of gas- 
 jets, each exquisite detail, each shining 
 gold mosaic and lavish carving stood out 
 with marvellous distinctness. The gol 
 den-winged angels that mount a mystic 
 
Illuminations 209 
 
 stairway above the great central arch, 
 the bronze horses prancing so harmlessly 
 over the main portal, even the quaint 
 bas-relief of St. George, sitting, with 
 such unimpeachable dignity, upon his 
 camp-stool, each and all were far more 
 clearly enunciated than ever they are 
 in the impartial splendor of daylight. 
 Against the darkly luminous, unfathom 
 able sky, the outline of the domes showed 
 clear-cut and harmonious, and over yon 
 der, above the great Palazzo, whose col 
 umns, for that evening at least, were 
 surely carved in ivory and wrought with 
 lace, a remote, half-grown moon looked 
 wonderingly down. 
 
 " The moon is rather out of it, to 
 night," May observed, with the bright 
 crispness that gave everything she said a 
 flavor of originality. She had taken in 
 the beauty of the scene with a complete 
 ness that would have astonished her com 
 panion ; not a detail had been lost upon 
 her. Yet it was clear that the total effect 
 had not produced an overpowering im- 
 
210 B Denetian 5une 
 
 pression. Geof, for his part, had been 
 really stirred by it, but he had no inten 
 tion of owning it. 
 
 " I don t think we need waste any sym 
 pathy on the moon," he replied. "It s 
 usually cock of the walk here in Venice." 
 
 Having thus satisfactorily disposed of 
 that subject, the young people turned 
 their steps toward the clock-tower, Geof 
 wondering resignedly, why May made 
 no motion to rejoin her family. 
 
 " I don t think I agree with you about 
 mysteries," she said, presently ; " I can t 
 bear them. There s Nanni, now, the 
 brother of our gondolier," she continued ; 
 and then, turning, and looking her com 
 panion full in the face : " Can you make 
 him out ? " 
 
 "What is it about him that puzzles 
 you ? " Geof asked, returning her glance 
 with equal frankness. 
 
 " I don t know that I can explain it. 
 He seems somehow different. There is 
 something wrong about him. I don t 
 think he is happy." 
 
Illuminations 211 
 
 " And what if he is not ? " said Geof 
 tentatively. " There need be no mystery 
 about that. I don t suppose many men 
 are really happy." 
 
 "You don t?" May exclaimed, in 
 naive surprise. 
 
 Geof, to whom happiness had come 
 to seem almost incredible, since he had 
 got a glimpse of what it might be, was 
 himself rather taken aback at his own 
 utterance. 
 
 " I rather think," he said, laughing 
 uneasily ; that I only meant that not 
 many people are superlatively happy. 
 As for commonplace, every-day happi 
 ness, I suppose that depends upon 
 temperament. Perhaps the man is of a 
 melancholy temperament." 
 
 "Perhaps that is it," May answered, 
 thoughtfully ; and with one accord they 
 turned into the quiet paved space north 
 of San Marco, where they stood, a few 
 moments, looking out into the brilliant 
 Piazza. 
 
 I suppose it was very silly of me, 
 
212 B Venetian 5une 
 
 M.ay went on, laying her hand upon the 
 haunches of a great stone lion that 
 crouches there, polished smooth with the 
 passage of centuries ; " but I had a notion 
 that he was unhappy because he had to live 
 in exile, a mere servant, you know, in a 
 dreadful hospital in Milan. And so I went 
 and offered to give him a gondola, and he 
 would n t accept it. He was thanking 
 me the other day, at Torcello, when you 
 came up. I suppose that was why he 
 was so melodramatic," and she laughed 
 a little forced laugh, and looked Geoffry 
 straight in the face again. 
 
 He saw her embarrassment, and under 
 stood that she had been setting him 
 right, and that it had cost her an effort 
 to refer to the matter. And so he said 
 the kindest thing possible under the cir 
 cumstances. 
 
 " If you mean his kissing your hand," 
 he replied, with an air of discussing a 
 matter of no consequence, "there s noth 
 ing melodramatic in that, at least when 
 a gondolier does it. It is the custom of 
 
Illuminations 213 
 
 their class. Old Pietro kisses mine and 
 makes me feel like an ancient doge." 
 
 He could see that she was relieved. 
 
 " I wonder where the others are," she 
 said. Let us go and look them up. 
 I did n t feel like anything so fine as a 
 doge," she added, lightly, as they came 
 out into the square again. " I felt like 
 a very interfering and foolish kind of per 
 son. I don t think I shall do anything 
 so silly again." 
 
 " There is nothing silly about a gener 
 ous action," Geof protested, looking with 
 great kindness at the young girl, to whom 
 the garment of humility was not unbe 
 coming. "I rather think, though, that 
 the man is better off than you imagine. 
 At any rate, I m very sure he is better 
 off for the good will you have shown him . " 
 
 Then, with a return of his previous 
 solicitude, somewhat stimulated by a new 
 realization of the unusual beauty of this 
 experimenter in mysteries, he added : 
 "These Italians are impressionable fel 
 lows. They sometimes feel things more 
 
214 B Venetian 3-une 
 
 than we cold-blooded Northerners appre 
 ciate." 
 
 "Do they?" said May, in her most 
 matter-of-fact voice, giving Geof a glance 
 of quick intelligence, and putting herself 
 instantly on the defensive; "I should 
 have said it was rather touch and go with 
 their feelings. Ah ! There s Mr. Ken- 
 wick, pretending he does n t see us ! " 
 
U\D. B 
 mct s 
 
 been 
 
 quite correct 
 in her surmise 
 that Kenwick 
 w as s h a m - 
 ming, though 
 this was merely 
 based on general 
 theories. Not only 
 did he see her as she 
 emerged with Geoffry Daymond from the 
 comparative obscurity of the stone lion s 
 neighborhood, but he had been for some 
 moments furtively watching them both, 
 himself lost to view in the crowd about 
 the band-stand. She would have been 
 surprised indeed if she could have guessed 
 the effect upon the sprightly cavalier of 
 this new evidence of the confidential re 
 lations existing between herself and his 
 friend ; and indeed, when a moment later 
 he met them, with a facetious sally, it is 
 doubtful whether anythin 
 215 
 
 g short of clair- 
 
216 B iDenetian 
 
 voyance could have divined his true state 
 of mind. 
 
 For Oliver Kenwick was experiencing 
 something as closely resembling genuine 
 feeling as was like to befall him in the 
 course of his discreetly regulated career. 
 He had played with fire once too often, 
 and he had discovered, not without a 
 slight accession of self-respect, that he 
 was perceptibly scorched. He had sup 
 posed his interest in May Beverly to 
 be purely impersonal ; he had been 
 mistaken. He had admired her in his 
 character of connoisseur, as a man of 
 the world he had found amusement 
 and relaxation in her society. For May 
 had the unique advantage of combining 
 that degree of conventionality which is 
 admissibly essential, with a refreshing 
 lack of conventionality in non-essentials. 
 She had repeatedly surprised and stimu 
 lated him, she had never yet offended 
 his taste. And Kenwick was nothing 
 if not fastidious. Her attraction had 
 been undeniably heightened by his imag- 
 
B Summer s 5>a 217 
 
 ined discovery of Geoffry Daymond s 
 interest in her ; but quite independently 
 of that artificial stimulous, she did exer 
 cise a strong fascination over him. 
 
 It was not in Oliver Kenwick s scheme 
 of life to sacrifice his independence to 
 a ny claim, even to that of his own un- 
 chastened fancies. He would not have 
 known himself in any other role than 
 that of free-lance, and life would indeed 
 have lost its savor if he had been be 
 trayed into the purchase of an indulgence 
 of feeling at the cost of his self-approval. 
 He possessed an ideal of himself which 
 he prized and guarded ; if the ideal was 
 a questionable one, judged by ordinary 
 standards, he was at least consistent in 
 its cultivation. If, impelled by a spirit of 
 rivalry, if, goaded to something approach 
 ing rashness by the contemplation of 
 Geof s quiet, masterful way of taking pos 
 session of the things he coveted, he resolved 
 to retaliate where retaliation was pecu 
 liarly palatable, this indicated no change 
 whatever in his ultimate intentions. 
 
2i3 B Venetian 5une 
 
 For a day or two after the little episode 
 of the stone lion Kenwick succeeded in 
 cutting Geof out, as he termed it, very 
 neatly, by the simple device of interest 
 ing May in a certain sketch which she 
 undertook at his suggestion. The sub 
 ject was a common enough one in Ven 
 ice ; a tranquil rio between ruinous walls, 
 here a bit of quaint mediaeval sculp 
 ture, there a splash of verdure over the 
 arch of a gateway, a pointed church- 
 tower in remote perspective. The clever 
 craftsman found no difficulty in invent 
 ing reasons why a similiar combination 
 of advantages was not to be found else 
 where. In his own mind he was perfectly 
 well aware that he chose it because the 
 proper point of view was only to be 
 obtained by disembarking and planting 
 the easels on a bit of quay that stopped 
 abruptly in front of a deserted house. 
 Here, in this isolated position, the two 
 painted together for three successive 
 afternoons, and Kenwick, by dint of a 
 judicious combination of encouragement 
 
B Summer s 2>a 219 
 
 and criticism, which he, as a practiced 
 artist had always at command, succeeded 
 in arousing in the young girl an enthu 
 siasm for the work, and an appreciation 
 of his own mastery of his craft, which 
 could not but be gratifying and stimulat 
 ing to him. In truth she had never liked 
 him so well, and, having on her part noth 
 ing to conceal, she was as outspoken in 
 her gratitude as in all things else. 
 
 At the end of the third afternoon May 
 had completed the best sketch she had 
 ever done. Just as she was putting the 
 finishing stroke to it, a gondola went 
 gliding by, an old and shabby one, and 
 in the tall figure at the stern she recog 
 nized Nanni. An indefinable shadow 
 crept over the bright elation of a moment 
 previous, and she stopped painting. 
 
 "That old tub of your Nanni s is 
 about ready for the crematory," Ken- 
 wick observed, as he too began putting 
 up his traps. 
 
 "The crematory?" she repeated, ab 
 sently; 
 
220 n Venetian Sune 
 
 "Yes; when they are fairly on their 
 last legs the gondolas are burnt in the 
 glass-factories." 
 
 May watched the water-logged craft as 
 it vanished under a distant bridge. 
 
 " I like that idea about the gondolas," 
 she remarked, a few minutes later, as 
 Pauline and Uncle Dan, who had been 
 taking a turn in the Giudecca, came to 
 pick them up. "The poor old things 
 must be glad to breathe their dying breath 
 into those exquisite flasks and vases." 
 
 :< What s that about dying breaths ? " 
 Uncle Dan demanded, as he handed his 
 niece into the gondola. "Yes; it is a 
 happy fate to die in a good cause," he 
 admitted, when the matter was explained 
 to him, and he wondered whether it 
 could possibly be Kenwick who had put 
 the child in a sentimental mood. 
 
 "But a happier fate to serve a good 
 cause and live," Kenwick maintained; 
 adding, lightly: "Miss May tells me I 
 have taught her something, and I desire 
 to live long to remember it." 
 
Summer s 2>ag 
 
 "You probably will, " the Colonel re 
 joined, curtly. 
 
 " You were wishing the other day for a 
 short life and a merry one," Pauline ob 
 served, as the Colonel turned to speak to 
 Vittorio. 
 
 "Perhaps things have changed since 
 then," Kenwick replied, in a low voice, 
 with so much seriousness and significance 
 that May gave him a quick, amused look, 
 while Pauline experienced an unreason 
 able resentment. What business had a 
 stranger like Kenwick to be talking to 
 them in riddles? 
 
 And yet, the next day, when the whole 
 party took the trip by steamer, the long 
 length of the lagoon to Chioggia, Pauline 
 was shocked to find herself almost re 
 signed to the pretensions of the stranger 
 as exhibited toward May. 
 
 The morning was a glorious one, cooler 
 and clearer than the usual Venice June. 
 Across the lagoon to the west, the Enga- 
 nean hills stood out, sharp-cut in their 
 pointed outlines as if carved in stone, as 
 
222 B Denetian 5une 
 
 indeed they doubtless are, while to the 
 northward, looking back across the domes 
 and spires of the receding city, could be 
 seen the distant snow-capped range of the 
 Tyrolese Alps, so gracious in its undula 
 ting curves, as to make an impression 
 almost of warmth and tenderness. 
 
 From the start, Kenwick had succeeded 
 in engaging May s attention, having re 
 sort to the same means which had already 
 proved efficacious. At his suggestion 
 they had each brought a sketch book, and, 
 during the trip of several hours, they 
 jotted down desultory notes of the pass 
 ing scene. Here a boat laden with mar 
 ket produce, its gay, striped sail bulging 
 to the breeze ; there, the towers of Mala- 
 mocco and Poveglia, with the pretty vista 
 of the channel between. Again a rude 
 shrine, erected on piles, or a group of 
 boys diving off a tumble-down wharf in 
 the distance. It was very delightful, 
 this monopoly of the young girl s at 
 tention. The eager interest with which 
 she listened to his suggestions, the quick 
 
a Summer s 2>as 223 
 
 intelligence with which she acted upon 
 them. 
 
 And Pauline, sitting with Geof a little 
 apart from the others, tried in vain to 
 take herself to task for leaving Kenwick 
 so entirely to his own devices. She sup 
 posed she understood her sister too well 
 to have any anxiety on her account. The 
 ready interest of May s manner was pre 
 cisely of the same sort as that with which 
 she had listened to Nanni s instructions 
 in rowing, or to Vittorio s lessons in the 
 Italian tongue. Pauline remembered how, 
 only the other day, Vittorio had made 
 mention of a piccola bcstia with whose 
 name they were not familiar, and she 
 smiled, as she recalled May s triumph 
 when, at last, after a labored description 
 of its leading characteristics, it had 
 dawned upon her that the small beast 
 with a smooth coat, a pointed nose, a 
 long tail, and yes, that told the story ! 
 four legs, was a mouse ! 
 
 Nevertheless, though her conscience 
 was easy with regard to her sister, Pau- 
 
224 & Venetian 5une 
 
 line told herself, severely, that Geof was 
 being very hardly used, and that she, by 
 her supineness, was as much to blame as 
 Kenwick for the artist s unwarrantable 
 behavior. To be sure, Geof betrayed no 
 dissatisfaction with the existing arrange 
 ment ; he was far too well-bred for that, 
 and really, how fine he was, in this as in 
 everything ! One would have thought 
 that he was deeply interested in telling 
 her about the great sea-wall in which na 
 ture and man have gone into partnership, 
 and upon the preservation of which de 
 pends the very existence --of Venice. 
 There it stretched for miles, the long, 
 narrow strip of sand and masonry, and 
 as the steamer plied the waters of the la 
 goon, hour after hour, in the bright June 
 morning, they could hear the tread of the 
 breakers on the beach outside, and realize 
 something of the mighty forces that must 
 be resisted in time of winter storms. 
 
 That thing almost made an engineer 
 of me," Geof observed. 
 
 " I don t wonder," said Pauline, with 
 
Summer s 3>a 
 
 ready comprehension ; "it appeals to one 
 immensely," and Geof knew that she 
 was in sympathy with him, that not a 
 word he had said, not a word he had left 
 unsaid, had been lost upon her. 
 
 " When I am particularly out of con 
 ceit with myself," he continued, and he 
 liked to remember that there was no one 
 else to whom he would have talked in 
 this strain, " I get to thinking that per 
 haps it was a mistake not to stick to that 
 first notion. It s a fine thing to work 
 for defence." 
 
 "Yes," said Pauline, after the little 
 pause he knew so well, and which he 
 had learned not to break in upon, " but, 
 is n t it better still to build for shelter ? 
 
 The thoughtful words, fraught with so 
 much delicate meaning, touched him with 
 a sense as of home and of sweet human 
 happiness ; the friendly eyes, turned ques- 
 tioningly to his, thrilled him with a yet 
 deeper feeling. A look came into his 
 face which had surely never been seen 
 there before, but he only said, in his 
 15 
 
226 B Denetian 3-une 
 
 deep, honest voice : " You have given a 
 new grace to my bricks and mortar. 
 
 Then Pauline, usually so modest and 
 so self-contained, was conscious of a 
 reprehensible feeling of exultation, and, 
 by a singular association of ideas, she 
 found herself constrained to remember 
 what Uncle Dan had said to her the other 
 evening. She glanced at him, chatting, 
 in pleasant good-fellowship, with the 
 Signora, and she was glad to think that 
 they too were to be made happy by this 
 beautiful and wonderful thing which all 
 agreed was in the air. And at this point 
 hi her meditations Pauline became pos 
 sessed of such an irresistible, and certainly 
 most illogical desire to give a little sob, 
 that she rose abruptly to her feet, and 
 went to look at her sister s sketches. 
 
 They were nearing the end of their 
 voyage, and, a few minutes later, they 
 had made the landing, and were strolling 
 through the ancient town in search of 
 luncheon. They found a little inn at the 
 edge of the water, where they partook of 
 
Summer^ 2>a 227 
 
 omelette and native wine, served in a 
 pretty loggia ; after which they sauntered 
 about the place, purchasing a piece of 
 lace of one and another picturesque old 
 hag, and picking up some quaint bits of 
 pottery in a dingy shop under the arcades. 
 I^ater, having done their duty by the 
 sights, they chartered a big boat, propelled 
 by two strapping oarsmen and a couple 
 of very splendid sails, and voyaged peace 
 fully down a sleepy canal, and out across 
 a bit of quiet lagoon to the strip of beach 
 known as Sotto Marina. There, on the 
 shore, they came upon a solitary child in 
 a red petticoat, with a small purple shawl 
 crossed over her funny little person. She 
 was apparently absorbed in watching the 
 tiny wavelets at her feet, scarcely bestow 
 ing a glance upon the numberless bril 
 liant sails, scattered like a field of Roman 
 anemones upon the deep green of the sea. 
 As the strangers descended upon her, 
 the little recluse payed them the tribute 
 of a fascinated stare, and they, in return, 
 did their best to instill into her mind the 
 
228 B Venetian 3-une 
 
 belief that they were creatures of another 
 and a brighter sphere. Uncle Dan pre 
 sented her with a peppermint lozenge, 
 Mrs. Daymond held her broad, lace- 
 trimmed parasol over the small black 
 head, while May gave her a glimpse of 
 the world through each end of her opera- 
 glass. The child was a self-contained 
 little person, and betrayed no special 
 elation over these blandishments. When 
 the time for parting came, Kenwick, with 
 much ceremony, presented her with a 
 bright piece of nickle, as a ricordo of the 
 visit. She was something of a beauty, 
 in her small childish way, and he peti 
 tioned for a kiss in return. This the 
 little maid politely but firmly refused ; 
 her favors were evidently not for sale. 
 
 " If you won t give me one," he said, 
 trying not to look abashed at the rebuff, 
 " go and kiss the lady you love best." 
 
 They were all standing about in the 
 bright sunshine, deriving no little enter 
 tainment from Kenwick s discomfiture. 
 The child took the proposition very 
 
B Summer s 2>a 229 
 
 seriously ; but, after a moment s de 
 liberation, she walked straight up to 
 Pauline and lifted a small, pursed-up 
 mouth to her. 
 
 k If that s not just Pauline s luck ! " 
 May exclaimed, as her sister stooped to 
 receive the proffered salutation. "And 
 she is the only one of us all who has n t 
 paid the little wretch the slightest atten 
 tion !" 
 
 " Oh, yes, she has," Geof protested, 
 in perfect good faith. " She has been 
 smiling at her ! " Upon which every 
 body laughed, and no one more heartily 
 than Geof, at the way his remark had 
 turned out. 
 
 Ken wick s merriment, however, was 
 not quite sincere. A vague mistrust had 
 crept over him and was working within 
 him, subtly and surely, as the afternoon 
 wore on. Had he been mistaken about 
 Geof? The thought was too distasteful 
 to be seriously entertained, and he re 
 jected it summarily. Yet it had not 
 been without effect. His vanity had 
 
230 B IDenettan 
 
 taken alarm, and the instinct of self-pres 
 ervation was roused in his mind. 
 
 Yes, he thought to himself, half-an- 
 hour later, as they sailed before a light 
 wind under the gay Chioggia canvas, out 
 toward the open sea, )^es, he had been 
 venturing upon deep w r aters, and it was 
 time to come about. It was, of course, 
 sheer nonsense to suppose that Geofs 
 taking May s defection so easily was an 
 indication of any real indifference on his 
 part. He was only too plaguey sure of 
 himself to feel any anxiety. Geof had 
 always had an irritating way of taking 
 things for granted ; but, when it came 
 to the point, no one with eyes in his head 
 could be really indifferent to that superb 
 young creature. Kenwick glanced at 
 the slender figure perched at the extreme 
 prow of the boat, and straightway he 
 experienced an awkward wrench some 
 where in the neighborhood of that organ 
 to which is attributed so large a share in 
 our emotional embarrassments. And it 
 was at this juncture that Kenwick had 
 
B Summer s 2>a 231 
 
 recourse to a curious befooling of himself 
 in which long practice had made him an 
 
 adept. 
 
 A sail was just passing, a deep red 
 one, bearing the design of globe and 
 cross in crude outline of uncompromising 
 black. As he regarded, absently, that 
 primitive religious symbol, there awoke 
 within him a certain phantom conscience, 
 which was wont to play an effective part 
 in his elaborate process of self-mystifica 
 tion. To-day this facile monitor hinted 
 that if Geof did feel so sure of himself, it 
 would hardly be the part of a friend to 
 press his own advantage too far. Geof 
 was a good fellow ; he really had a great 
 opinion of Oliver Ken wick s talent, and 
 did not hesitate to say so on occasion. 
 It would never do to play him any un 
 handsome tricks. The more unsuspicious 
 he was, the more it behooved Ken wick to 
 guard his interests. Yes ; he would 
 withdraw in Geof s favor, he would be 
 hanged if he would n t ! 
 
 And so it came about that by the time 
 
Venetian 3une 
 
 they were returning northward again in 
 the Venice steamer, Kenwick had worked 
 himself up to a really lofty pitch of self- 
 sacrifice. He would go off in the Stick- 
 neys yacht with them to-morrow, by 
 Jove he would ! Luckily for him, he 
 had left the invitation open, not from any 
 intention of accepting it, but simply be 
 cause he had never in his life burnt a 
 bridge. A good principle that ; he would 
 always stick to it. 
 
 As the lovely sunset light grew and 
 deepened, Venice came up like a vision 
 out of the sea. The cloudless sky was 
 tinged with yellow, and the water rip 
 pled in moulten gold up to the very side 
 of the boat. He turned to May, who 
 chanced to be standing beside him, look 
 ing, with level gaze, straight into the 
 serene heart of the sky. She had cer 
 tainly a softer, gentler look than she used 
 to wear. Would it deepen as he spoke ? 
 
 This is a charming ending to my 
 visit here," he said, quietly. 
 
 "Ending?" May exclaimed, turning 
 
B Summer s Das 2 33 
 
 upon him that bright, straightforward 
 look with which she met every statement 
 of fact. "Ending? Why, you are not 
 going away ? 
 
 "Yes; I am off with the Stickneys 
 early to-morrow morning." 
 
 41 In the Urania ? You are in luck ! 
 But why did n t you tell us before ? " 
 
 " I could n t bear to speak of it," he 
 averred, and at the moment he almost 
 believed he was speaking the truth. "It 
 costs me too much to go away." 
 
 "Well, I don t wonder," May de 
 clared; "there s nothing like Venice. 
 Still, you live abroad half the time, and 
 can come here whenever you please." 
 
 " Ah, Miss May ! " he exclaimed, and 
 this time he was absolutely sincere. 
 "Venice will never be the same to me 
 
 again." 
 
 She could not altogether misunder 
 stand his meaning, but it was impossible 
 to take him very seriously, and, prompted 
 by a not too lively curiosity, she asked : 
 " Then why do you go? " 
 
234 B Venetian 3une 
 
 Because it would be wrong for me to 
 stay," he replied, with a subdued, almost 
 convincing emphasis. 
 
 "Then of course you must go," she 
 returned, with the youthful decision that 
 rarely failed her; adding, consolingly, as 
 her eyes wandered back to the sunset : 
 " And I ve no doubt you will enjoy the 
 Urania quite as much as Venice." 
 
\D. June IRoses. 
 
 HS Kenwick stood, the next morn 
 ing, on the deck of the beautiful 
 pleasure-boat for whose splendors he had 
 betrayed so lively an appreciation, he 
 looked back across the widening distance 
 with a sense of regret more poignant 
 than he was at all prepared to deal with. 
 Even when they were actually weighing 
 anchor, he found himself considering the 
 feasibility of a retreat, and now, as the 
 screw turned, and the water, on whose 
 tranquil bosom he had floated so peace 
 fully, was churned into a seething froth, 
 235 
 
236 B Venetian 5une 
 
 a sickening misgiving seized him. Had 
 he paid too high a price to preserve the 
 integrity of his scheme of life? or rath 
 er, he hastened to correct himself, 
 had he made too great a sacrifice to the 
 claims of friendship ? That was the more 
 consoling view to take. He had done 
 the handsome thing and he would not 
 flinch, especially since he could not 
 now do so without making himself ri 
 diculous. 
 
 Kenwick refrained from asking him 
 self why he should consider Daymond s 
 claim paramount to his own ; he was not 
 given to searching analysis of his own 
 motives. The man who values his illu 
 sions soon learns the best way of preserv 
 ing them, and the illusion in question 
 was doubly valuable, since it bade fair, 
 under judicious tending, to invest the 
 mythical Oliver Kenwick, already so dear 
 to his imagination, with a nimbus of 
 romantic devotion most agreeable to con 
 template. 
 
 His fellow-passengers were a talkative 
 
$une Ifloses 237 
 
 and somewhat egotistical company, and 
 he was left more completely to himself, 
 for the first few moments than, on ordi 
 nary occasions, he would have found 
 quite to his mind. No one was likely to 
 note the persistency with which his 
 glance returned to one of the high, stone 
 balconies of the Hotel Venezia. 
 
 There was one chance in ten that a 
 certain tall, girlish figure might appear 
 there, as it had so often done in the care 
 lessly fleeting days that were already 
 past and gone ; there was one chance 
 in twenty that it might appear for his 
 sake, that a fluttering white handker 
 chief might assure him of certain pleas 
 ant things. He strained his eyes to the 
 last possible moment, in the hope of such 
 a sight ; but he was too mindful of ap 
 pearances even in the stress and strain 
 of painful emotion, to take out his opera- 
 glass and turn it upon that point. He 
 did, however, so far forget himself, as 
 to sigh profoundly, and without that 
 guarded look to right and left, which 
 
23% B Venetian 5une 
 
 should always precede such an indul 
 gence. That, in itself, was a very marked 
 concession to feeling. 
 
 There remained to Kenwick one conso 
 lation besides that of having behaved 
 handsomely to Daymond ; he had left a 
 fragrant, if not a lasting memory behind 
 him. Would she not be pleased, would 
 she not be touched, when, presently, his 
 roses were brought to her? She was 
 to find them when she came up from 
 breakfast ; his directions to the porter on 
 that head had been very explicit. And 
 would not the roses, beautiful in them 
 selves, gain a telling significance, by rea 
 son of the message they bore ? On the 
 reverse side of his card he had written, 
 in his small, clear hand, the words : 
 
 " All June I bound the rose in sheaves." 
 
 The line seemed to him extremely well 
 chosen ; it could hardly fail to stimulate 
 the imagination. He, himself, felt its 
 haunting quality, and he had repeated 
 
239 
 
 it, under his breath, as he followed the 
 gardener about, urging him to cull his 
 choicest roses. 
 
 As he mused upon these things, the 
 yacht, rounding Santa Klena, steamed 
 away to the Porto del L,ido, and he sud 
 denly became aware that Miss Hortense 
 Stickney s inquisitive eyes were fixed upon 
 him. He was instantly on his guard. 
 
 "Well, that s the last of Venice," he 
 exclaimed, "and I m glad of it. One 
 gets tired of dawdling about on a magni 
 fied frog-pond. One begins to long for 
 the open sea." Miss Stickney looked 
 gratified, and Ken wick felt himself once 
 more in his element. 
 
 May Beverly, meanwhile, had been 
 frankly delighted with the roses. So en 
 chanting did .she find them, indeed, that 
 she had merely glanced at the card, and 
 had tossed it into the waste-paper basket 
 without looking at the reverse side. 
 
 "Just think of it, Pauline ! " she had 
 cried ; "he must have been way over to 
 the Giudecca this very morning to get 
 
240 B Denetian $une 
 
 them. I wonder if the Urania has sailed 
 yet." 
 
 Nine o clock was the hour, was it 
 not?" Pauline asked, taking up one of 
 the roses and holding it to her face. It 
 must be after that." 
 
 "Yes, it s too late," said May, asshe 
 stepped out upon the balcony; "she s 
 half-way to the Public Gardens. But 
 I m going to wave, all the same." 
 
 And so it chanced, by the perversity 
 of fate, that if Kenwick had but risked 
 using his opera-glass, he would not have 
 looked in vain. 
 
 May watched the yacht until it dis 
 appeared from sight, for she had not 
 before seen the graceful craft in motion, 
 and then she returned to the contem 
 plation of her roses. As she lifted them, 
 one by one, and arranged them deftly 
 in a broad-mouthed Chioggia jug, she 
 was moved to exclaim: "I do think 
 that was really kind of him ! Do you 
 know, Pauline, I m afraid we did n t 
 like him half enough." 
 
3-une IRoses 241 
 
 It was but a passing compunction, 
 however, and the roses themselves were 
 not destined to receive the attention 
 which their beauty fairly entitled them 
 to. It did not seem quite feasible to take 
 them to San Giorgio degli Scliiavoni, 
 and even had they gone, they would 
 soon have been forgotten in the delights 
 which that modest little sanctuary offers. 
 The sunshine of four hundred years ago 
 that glows in mellow warmth upon Car- 
 paccio s canvases, the vigor and the 
 piety and the fun of that "wayward 
 patchwork," are more vital and more 
 absorbing than any mortal roses. 
 
 And if, in the morning, Ken wick s 
 interests had been subordinated to Art, 
 Nature proved no less exacting in the 
 afternoon. For then it was that the red 
 banner and the blue pursued together 
 yet unexplored paths of the northern 
 lagoon, returning whence, the city was 
 seen in a new perspective, the great cam 
 panile in particular, taking up a position 
 so contrary to all precedent, that May 
 
242 a Venetian 5une 
 
 was half inclined to believe that it actu 
 ally did "promenade," as Vittorio so 
 picturesquely expressed it. 
 
 The evening again was a glorious one, 
 and again the roses were left behind. 
 When the Colonel and his Pollys ap 
 peared at the steps of the Venezia, Vit 
 torio greeted them with a radiant " bel- 
 lissimo!" The moon was all but full 
 and not a breath of air stirred the wide 
 reaches of the lagoon, visible beyond 
 San Giorgio. One of the musicians 
 barges was drawn up in front of the 
 hotel ; the first song was in progress, 
 and gondolas from the upper canal were 
 approaching, with soft dip of oar, and 
 gleaming of tiny lights. 
 
 The singer was a woman. She was 
 standing in the middle of the boat, one 
 hand clinging, as if for support, to the 
 shoulder of a violinist. The voice was 
 high and strained ; painfully strained, 
 it seemed, to Pauline s quick percep 
 tion. 
 
 " How tired that woman s voice is ! " 
 
5une Iftoses 243 
 
 she exclaimed. Do let us give them 
 something ! " 
 
 Vittorio brought the gondola close 
 alongside the barge, but before Pauline 
 could make her offering, the strained 
 voice broke, the figure swayed heavily 
 to one side, and the woman sank to the 
 floor, supported in the arms of one of 
 the men. The big boat instantly moved 
 away, and in another moment, the .swing 
 ing paper lanterns, illumining but faintly 
 the anxious group of musicians, had 
 disappeared down a side canal. 
 
 The other gondolas had not yet come 
 up, and Vittorio, without waiting for 
 orders, rowed after the retreating barge, 
 which he overtook with a few vigor 
 ous strokes of the oar. The men had 
 stopped rowing, and someone was calling 
 for a gondola. The Colonel s boat was 
 promptly placed at their service. 
 
 The woman had already recovered 
 consciousness, and was murmuring piti 
 fully : "A casa, a casa ! " Her husband 
 helped her aboard the gondola, where 
 
244 B Venetian 3une 
 
 Pauline took compassionate possession of 
 her, ministering to her in gentle, discern 
 ing wise. May, usually so fertile in 
 resource, found nothing to offer but her 
 vinaigrette, which the patient did not 
 take kindly to ; while Uncle Dan, with 
 misguided zeal, administered a severe 
 rebuke to the unhappy husband, for 
 allowing his wife to sing, when she was 
 so manifestly unequal to the effort. 
 
 "Ah, Signore," the man replied, in 
 a tone of dull discouragement, "you 
 do not know poverty ! " Whereupon the 
 Colonel admitted that it was vero, and, 
 becoming very penitent indeed, began 
 grubbing about his person in search of 
 paper money, and calling himself names 
 for having left his wallet in the pocket 
 of his other coat. 
 
 Meanwhile, Vittorio was rowing them 
 swiftly down narrow canals with many 
 windings, where the water flowed black 
 in the shadow, and gleamed weirdly in 
 the light of a chance gas-lamp. The 
 moon was not yet high enough to look 
 
June IRoses 2 45 
 
 down between those close-ranged walls, 
 but, above them, the sky stretched, a 
 luminous, deep blue ribbon, upon which 
 only the brighter stars could hold their 
 
 own. 
 
 News of the mishap had outstripped 
 the gondola. Two turns of an alley 
 way, a couple of bridges, a dash across 
 a square, and another alley-way, had 
 brought a messenger to the house, while 
 the gondola was still gliding on its tortu 
 ous way. A group of women awaited 
 their arrival. 
 
 "I wish we might have gone in, to 
 see how they live," May said, regretfully, 
 as they pushed off, leaving the woman in 
 the hands of her friends. 
 
 "It s probably a very poor way of 
 living," Uncle Dan surmised. The 
 kind that makes a man feel like a scoun 
 drel the next time he smokes a good 
 cigar." 
 
 "Why, you re a regular socialist, 
 Uncle Dan," cried May. "I didn t 
 know that! " 
 
246 B Venetian 3-une 
 
 "Neither did I, Polly," the Colonel 
 replied, pulling viciously at his mous 
 tache. "I don t so much mind being 
 better off than other folks," he added, 
 thoughtfully; "but somehow, you do 
 hate to have other folks worse off than 
 you !" 
 
 They were retracing their way down 
 one of the narrowest and darkest canals, 
 when the the warning cry, " premi-o ! " 
 echoing round an unsuspected corner 
 told them of an approaching gondola. 
 
 " Ecco, mio fratello ! " Vittorio ex 
 claimed, answering, then, with his own 
 sonorous call ; and an instant later, the 
 prow of his brother s gondola came steal 
 ing out of the shadow. 
 
 As the boats passed one another, Vit 
 torio said a few words in dialect, which 
 were quite unintelligible to the foreign 
 ers. Yet May felt sure that Nanni was 
 being sent to the house they had just left. 
 
 Do you and Nanni know the singer ? 
 she asked, as they came out into the full 
 moonlight, above the Rialto bridge. 
 
5une IRoses 247 
 
 " Si, Signorina," the gondolier replied, 
 with prompt exactitude; "her sister s 
 brother-in-law was the nephew of our 
 grandmother s niece by marriage." 
 
 "Oh!" May gasped, rendered, for 
 once, inarticulate, by this surprising ex 
 hibition of genealogic lore. 
 
 They were late in coming in that even 
 ing, and, as the girls opened their cham 
 ber door, the perfume of the roses wafted 
 to them conveyed a delicate hint of 
 unmerited neglect. 
 
 "Poor things!" said Pauline; "it 
 was a shame to leave them to themselves 
 all day long, doing nobody any good ! " 
 " I know it," May admitted ; " it was 
 a shame; but I didn t want to wear 
 them, in all this heat, and I could n t very 
 well sit and tend them, all day ! I know 
 what we will do," she added, with quick 
 decision; " we will take them round to 
 the poor singer in the morning. Per 
 haps they may give her pleasure." 
 
 " I wonder how Mr. Kenwick would 
 like that," queried Pauline, who, in spite 
 
248 B iDenetfan 5une 
 
 of an inborn loyalty to the absent, was 
 not ill-pleased with the suggestion. 
 
 " I don t believe he would mind," 
 said May, as she plunged the beautiful 
 things up to their necks in the water- 
 pitcher ; "he has probably forgotten, by 
 this time, that he ever sent them." 
 
 And Kenwick, stretched upon the deck 
 of the Urania in the moonlight, after 
 the others had gone below, was, at that 
 very moment, murmuring softly to him 
 self: 
 
 " All June I bound the rose in sheaves." 
 
Surrender* 
 
 >V AY BEVERLY 
 JL IB J was not 
 
 given to the study 
 of her own coun- 
 t e n a n c e . She 
 knew, of course, 
 that it was a cred 
 itable production 
 of Nature, that 
 she had good 
 features and pretty color 
 ing and that her fellow-creatures, as a 
 rule, seemed to like her looks. Beauty 
 had not stolen upon her at unawares as the 
 case is with so many young girls. She 
 had always been pretty, with the unques 
 tioned, outspoken prettiness of a graceful 
 animal or a bright- lined flower. She 
 took it for granted, as she did those other 
 gifts, of health and youth, and, on the 
 whole, she gave it very little thought. 
 
 It was therefore the more remarkable 
 that she should have just been spending 
 a good half-hour before the looking-glass. 
 She had the room to herself this after- 
 
 249 
 
2 so 21 Venetian 3une 
 
 noon, for Pauline had gone again to Tor- 
 cello, this time with a party of old friends 
 who had recently made their appearance 
 in Venice, and whose claims upon her 
 sister May was somewhat inclined to 
 question. To-day, however, their exac 
 tions fell in most opportunely with a 
 certain plan of her own, which had come 
 to her in the shape of a great inspiration. 
 The Torcello party had started directly 
 after luncheon and were to return by 
 moonlight, and, Pauline being thus satis 
 factorily disposed of, there remained but 
 one lion in the path, in the person, 
 namely, of Uncle Dan. 
 
 As May stood before the dressing-table, 
 upon which were billows of bright silk 
 handkerchiefs, each of which had in turn 
 suffered rejection at her hands, she was 
 arranging a large fichu of Spanish lace 
 upon her head in such fashion as to com 
 pletely cover her pretty hair. She tilted 
 her head first at one angle and then at 
 another, scowling fiercely in her effort to 
 decide how great a change had been 
 
21 Surrender 251 
 
 wrought in her appearance. Whether 
 owing to the presence of the scowl, or to 
 the absence of the yellow top-knot, the 
 countenance certainly had a very unfa 
 miliar look, and, well pleased with the 
 effect, she turned away and stepped out 
 upon the balcony. 
 
 The day was very warm, not a breath 
 of air found its way under the broad, 
 striped awning that cast its grateful 
 shadow upon the balcony ; the very water 
 gleamed hot and desert, and the cooing 
 of the Salute doves had the gurgling, 
 simmering sound of a great tea-kettle. 
 May leaned her arms upon the cushions 
 of the stone balustrade and looked down 
 and off toward San Giorgio. How 
 beautiful it was, even at high noon, 
 and how glorious it would be to-night, 
 when the full moon came sailing up 
 into the twilight sky, and the cool, 
 sweet breath of evening was wafted over 
 the waters ! What an evening it would 
 be ! One to remember all her life, all 
 that long, every-day kind of life that 
 
B Venetian Sune 
 
 stretched so unendingly on into the 
 future. 
 
 They had gone that morning, she and 
 Pauline, to carry the roses to the Signora 
 Canti. They had found the poor singer 
 weak and ill and disheartened. The 
 doctor had told her she must not sing for 
 some days yet, surely not this evening, 
 and to-night was full moon, when the 
 tourists throng the Grand Canal, and be 
 fore another full moon should come the 
 heat would have driven the pleasure- 
 seekers away. " They fear the heat, the 
 forestieri ! " 
 
 There was no one to take her place, the 
 woman said. Just the chorus singing 
 would attract but few listeners ; the other 
 serenaders would get all the people. 
 This was the harvest time and it must be 
 wasted. Ah ! The roses were molto 
 belle, bellissime, Signorina, but it was 
 clear that they offered little consolation 
 for real troubles. 
 
 And, sitting there in the tiny room 
 where the shutters were close drawn 
 
Surrender 253 
 
 against the morning sun, which never 
 theless pierced through a crack and lit up, 
 with one straight beam, the pitiful, drawn 
 face of the poor cantatrice, her great in 
 spiration came to May. She had a voice 
 and she could sing. Why should she not 
 sing for this poor woman, sing in the 
 moonlight and gather the gondolas about 
 her? Oh, there would be no lack of a 
 soul in her singing, out there in the 
 moonlight. Signer Firenzo would not 
 have lectured and entreated her in vain. 
 She knew now what he meant. She had 
 been longing to sing, many an evening 
 on the starlit lagoons and she had not 
 dared. 
 
 A group of little children had come 
 into their mother s room, and were hud 
 dling shyly in a corner, gazing, wide-eyed 
 and silent, at the strange ladies and the 
 gorgeous roses, the like of which had 
 never before found their way there. May 
 hardly noticed the children, so preoccu 
 pied was she with her own thoughts, but 
 the sight of them gave her sister courage. 
 
254 B Venetian $une 
 
 As they rose to go, Pauline drew money 
 from her pocket, and, bending over the 
 woman, she said, very gently : " Signora, 
 we have never half thanked you for your 
 singing. May we do so now ? " 
 
 The woman s eyes shone, and a pretty 
 color went up the pale, gaunt cheek. 
 
 "Ah!" she said. "You have listened 
 to my singing, and with pleasure ? And 
 it is truly for my singing that you give 
 me this, and not because you are sorry 
 for me ? " 
 
 And Pauline, remembering how often 
 the tired voice, strained to a high, uncer 
 tain pitch, sounding across the water like 
 a cry for succor, had filled her with com 
 passion, could say with truth ; " Signora, 
 your singing has touched our hearts." 
 
 As May stood upon the balcony, gazing 
 far out over the lagoon, her young eyes 
 undazzled by the intense mid-day light, 
 she thought how sweet it would be to see 
 again that look of grateful pleasure upon 
 the worn face. Ah, she would sing ! 
 How she would sing ! She would sing 
 
B Surrenfcet 255 
 
 the heart into those people in the gon 
 dolas ; she would sing the money out 
 of their purses ! The gondolas should 
 gather about her till the water was black 
 with them. She would sing till the night 
 rang with the sound of her voice ! A 
 sense of power had come into her, which 
 she had never felt before. She should 
 take command of those musicians, she 
 should take command of that mysterious, 
 floating audience. No one would know 
 her ; she should not know herself. For 
 one splendid hour she should be set free 
 of herself. 
 
 It was the first time in her life that 
 May Beverly had found herself mastered 
 by an enthusiasm. The consciousness 
 of it suddenly seized her and filled her 
 with a curious misgiving. She knelt 
 down upon the floor of the balcony, and, 
 leaning her forehead against the cushion 
 of the balustrade, she tried to collect her 
 thoughts, to regain her balance. 
 
 She wondered if she were very foolish, 
 if it were a mere outbreak of shallow 
 
256 B Venetian 5une 
 
 vanity that ought to be suppressed. She 
 hoped not. Of course this thing that she 
 wanted to do was shockingly unconven 
 tional. Anywhere else, under any other 
 circumstances, it would be out of char 
 acter ; but here in Venice everything was 
 different . She tried to shut out the magic 
 city from her thoughts, to return to a 
 perfectly normal state of mind. 
 
 The hour was very still, even the doves 
 had fallen silent. For a few seconds, as 
 she knelt with covered eyes in her high 
 balcony, only one sound reached her 
 ears ; but that was the dip of an oar, 
 the very heart-beat of Venice. It had 
 the intimate, penetrating power of a 
 whispered incantation ; it touched and 
 quickened the imagination more than peal 
 of bells or chant of marching priests. 
 And as she knelt and listened the young 
 girl felt a scorn of the past and its limi 
 tations and its trivial satisfactions its 
 petty reference of everything to a small, 
 personal standard. The great outer world 
 was knocking at the door of her heart, 
 
Surrender 257 
 
 the world of suffering, and the world of 
 joy, the world of romance, and the world 
 of real human experience. 
 
 She would sing to-night ; she would 
 let her own personality go, and be just 
 a human creature doing a daring, inspir 
 ing thing for the sake of another human 
 creature who was in need. With a sense 
 of exultant self-surrender she lifted her 
 face and looked up at the Salute. Its 
 domes and pinnacles had been hidden by 
 the low-hanging awning, but now, with 
 her eyes on a level with the balustrade, 
 she could see the lovely temple in all its 
 gracious outlines. 
 
 " And I remember I used to wonder 
 whether I liked it," she thought to her 
 self, with a singular feeling, as if she had 
 been recalling a past state of existence. 
 
 She rose to her feet and stepped inside. 
 A pile of sheet music lay upon the table, 
 and she stood a few minutes beside it, 
 turning over the leaves and humming 
 softly to herself. There was a rap at the 
 door, and Uncle Dan appeared. 
 
258 B Venetian 5une 
 
 At once her mood had changed. She 
 was Polly, and here was Uncle Dan, to 
 be cajoled and entreated and vanquished. 
 
 "Oh, Uncle Dan!" she cried, "I 
 thought you never were coming ! I want 
 to talk to you." 
 
 "Why, Polly ! " he exclaimed, " what 
 are you up to ? You look like a fright 
 in that thing !" 
 
 Which means, you never would have 
 known me," Polly declared mischiev 
 ously. "That s just what I wanted. 
 Now come in like a dear and let me talk to 
 you. No, sit in this chair, it s much 
 more comfortable. Have you had your 
 cigar? " 
 
 "Of course I have. It s nearly an 
 hour since luncheon." 
 
 " Don t you want another ?" 
 
 Polly ! What are you driving at ? " 
 
 " I only wanted to make you perfectly 
 comfortable, so that you would enjoy 
 having a little chat with me." 
 
 She had seated herself in a low chair 
 opposite him, where she could look 
 
Surrenfcer 259 
 
 straight into his eyes. She pulled off the 
 black lace and proceeded to fold it with 
 great care and precision. There was a 
 look in her face, calculated to make the 
 old soldier call out all his reserves. 
 
 11 Well, out with it, Polly ! " he cried. 
 
 "It s about that poor singer, Uncle 
 Dan ; the woman we took home last night. 
 You remember ? 
 
 " Remember ? I m not losing my fac 
 ulties, Polly ! 
 
 1 Yes ; of course you remember ! What 
 was I thinking of ? Well, you know we 
 went to see her this morning, and took 
 her those roses of Mr. Kenwick s. Uncle 
 Dan, they didn t seem to meet the 
 case ! and May looked at her victim 
 with the gravity of a secretary of the met 
 ropolitan board of charities. 
 
 "That was rather hard on those par 
 ticular roses," Uncle Dan observed, with 
 a certain grim satisfaction. 
 
 " Yes, I think it was. But, Uncle Dan, 
 I ve thought of something much better 
 than roses. I m going to sing for her ! " 
 
26o B Venetian 
 
 " Will that meet the case ? " asked the 
 Colonel, doubtfully. He too had been 
 wondering what could be done for the 
 niece by marriage of Vittorio s grand 
 mother s what did he say she was? 
 
 " Yes ; for you see I shall be a novelty, 
 and I sing better than she does, and we 
 shall take a lot of money. 
 
 " A lot of money, for singing to that 
 woman ? Polly, what are you talking 
 about?" 
 
 And then it was that Polly took the 
 field, and marshalled all her arguments, 
 and did such valiant battle to the Colo 
 nel s dearest prejudices and most cher 
 ished theories, that he was fairly 
 bewildered and demoralized. 
 
 She knew she could do it, she knew she 
 could sing, and singing always sounded 
 lovely on the water. She was in splendid 
 voice, she had been practicing pianis 
 simo, and it went like a charm. Not a soul 
 would know her. She was going to wear 
 a plain black skirt and a sulphur shawl, 
 she had always meant to buy a sulphur 
 
B Surrender 261 
 
 shawl, and a lot of beads round her 
 neck. She was going to twist some 
 black stuff about her hair, and then pin 
 the Spanish lace on in the most artistic 
 and Italian manner. 
 
 " And you know, Uncle Dan, my hair 
 is the most noticeable thing about me. 
 When that s covered up I am quite 
 another person. And then the light 
 will be very dim, and so many queer 
 colors from the swinging lanterns that 
 I sha n t have the vestige of a com 
 plexion left ! " 
 
 "But the promiscuous audience, the 
 rough company on the barge ! the Colo 
 nel urged, struggling but feebly against 
 a premonition of defeat. Already the 
 old soldier quailed miserably before the 
 enemy. 
 
 They are not a rough company, Polly 
 declared. " I asked Vittorio all about 
 it. He knows nearly all the men, and he 
 says they are gallant uoniini. Signor 
 Canti will be there, and he will take 
 beautiful care of me. Signora Canti is 
 
262 21 Dcnetian 3une 
 
 to have all the proceeds beyond a certain 
 sum that the others will agree upon." 
 
 "The thing seems pretty well settled 
 between you and your gallant homi 
 nies" growled Uncle Dan, trying to be 
 severe. 
 
 " No ; it s all settled in my own mind, 
 but I haven t breathed a word of it to 
 anybody but you. And of course you. 
 have got to say yes, before I shall take 
 any steps ! " 
 
 Superficially regarded, this seemed like 
 a concession ; but the Colonel knew bet 
 ter. You have got to say yes ! " To 
 his ears it sounded like the fiat of inex 
 orable fate, and he only gazed, with a look 
 of comical deprecation at the youthful or 
 ator, who was gesticulating with the lace 
 fichu, to the destruction of its carefully 
 laid folds. 
 
 " Polly, your father would not listen 
 to such a thing for a moment," he jerked 
 out, getting very red in the face. 
 
 " But he won t have to ; he never need 
 know a \vord about it ! " Alas, that was 
 
21 Surrender 263 
 
 a line of reasoning that struck a respon 
 sive chord. 
 
 " But Polly would never consent." 
 "That s the beauty of it! She s 
 safely out of the way." 
 
 And Mrs. Daymond, she would be 
 shocked, I am sure," and his fine color 
 faded with consternation. 
 
 Not if she never knows it ! " 
 "But I shall know it," he protested, 
 faintly. Then, gathering himself together 
 for a last effort : "No, Polly, I can never 
 consent. Never ! You understand ! It s 
 useless to talk about it ! " and the Col 
 onel got upon his feet and stepped out 
 upon the balcony, breathing fire and 
 slaughter to all revolutionary schemes. 
 And then Polly knew that she had won 
 the day. When Uncle Dan grew em 
 phatic and peremptory it was a sure sign 
 that he was weakening. 
 
 She followed him out upon the balcony, 
 and slipped her hand within his arm. 
 
 " O, Uncle Dan," she said, in her most 
 insinuating tone. "You haven t the 
 
26 4 B Venetian 3une 
 
 least idea how I shall sing ! You never 
 heard anything so fine as it will be. I 
 shall sing, so that all the gondolas will 
 come gliding up to listen. And there 
 will be the moon sailing up the sky, and 
 the world will be so big and so dark that 
 I can let my voice out without a thought 
 of myself, and O Uncle Dan ! say 
 yes!" 
 
 Then a slow, intense flush mounted in 
 the sun-burnt cheek, while a light kin 
 dled in the eyes, set deep within the bushy 
 eyebrows. And Uncle Dan looked into 
 the ardent face beside him, and, before 
 he could stop himself, he had exclaimed, 
 half under his breath : 
 
 "Gad, Polly ! But I should like to 
 hear you ! " 
 
Serenata. 
 
 j^ROM the moment when the Colonel 
 J| made his fatal admission, his cause 
 was lost and he knew it. He was too 
 good a soldier to fight for the sake of 
 fighting, but he was not a little shocked 
 at the alacrity with which he went over 
 to the enemy. 
 
 Yet the step was not an unprecedented 
 one. It was not for nothing that he had 
 been for years the willing slave of his 
 Pollys, that his whole training as uncle 
 had tended to cultivate in him the grace 
 of obedience. "As the twig is bent the 
 tree inclines," and he had been the merest 
 twig of an uncle, if not in years, at least 
 in experience, when he had yielded to the 
 265 
 
266 B Venetian June 
 
 sunny persuasiveness of that first faint 
 glimmering of a smile in the baby face 
 of the original Polly. His subjugation, 
 moreover, having hitherto proved bene 
 ficial in its results, he was the more 
 excusable, to-day, for letting himself 
 be swept along by the impetus of his 
 tyrant s will. 
 
 There was little time for reflection ; 
 indeed, as it was, a young person of less 
 executive ability than May could hardly 
 have accomplished what she brought to 
 pass in the few hours at her disposal. 
 She flew from the Venezia to the Signora 
 Canti for the first unfolding of her plan, 
 from the almost speechless Signora to the 
 Merceria in search of the sulphur shawl, 
 and thence to the Signora Canti again, 
 attended all the while by Uncle Dan, 
 whose cane struck sharply 011 the pave 
 ment of the narrow, reverberating alley 
 ways. The business was all transacted 
 on foot, that even Vittorio might be kept 
 in ignorance of the great secret. Through 
 the good offices of the Signor Canti the 
 
ZIbe Serenata 267 
 
 barge musicians were interviewed, and 
 the details of the undertaking arranged. 
 Even a small rehearsal was brought 
 about in the somewhat restricted quar 
 ters of the Canti apartment, and great 
 was May s rejoicing, to find how many 
 of her favorite songs were well-known to 
 the quartette of accompanists. 
 
 As the Colonel looked back upon the 
 afternoon, he had a bewildered sense of 
 having taken part in a general engage 
 ment, very brilliant in character, but with 
 the conduct of which he, as private, had 
 had no concern whatever. And now it 
 was evening, and he was floating in the 
 gondola out on the broad basin of St. 
 Mark s, awaiting, with no little trepida 
 tion, the progress of events. 
 
 No, his nieces would not be with him, 
 he had told Vittorio. One was gone to 
 Torcello, and the other had an engage 
 ment for the evening, which Vittorio 
 thought pcccato. The padrone proposed 
 to float about in the moonlight for a while, 
 and listen to the music, and this, at least, 
 
268 B Venetian 5une 
 
 was bcnissimo, and commanded the gon 
 dolier s warmest approval. 
 
 Scarcely had Vittorio been thus pacified 
 
 than the barge with its dangling lanterns, 
 
 beneath which the Colonel had seen his 
 
 Polly safely ensconced but a few minutes 
 
 since, came floating out from a narrow 
 
 canal, and glided slowly along the Riva, 
 
 past the Royal Gardens and the Piazzetta, 
 
 to the outermost of the great hotels. 
 
 Sitting among the " gallant hominies" 
 
 was a figure in a sulphur shawl, with a 
 
 cloud of Spanish lace about the head, so 
 
 ingeniously disposed that the features 
 
 were somewhat hidden, yet apparently 
 
 with no intention of covering the face. 
 
 ; That looks like the Canti barge, Vit 
 torio," the Colonel remarked. "Let us 
 go nearer and find out who is to do the 
 singing. Do you know the woman ? " 
 
 " No, Signore. It is a stranger," Vit 
 torio declared. "It is not a Venetian." 
 :< What makes you think so ? " 
 " I do not know her face." 
 The sunset glow had quite faded from 
 
tTbe Serenata 269 
 
 the sky and the great disk of the moon 
 hung like a luminous shield over beyond 
 San Giorgio. Its wonderful light, liquid 
 and silvery as the water of the lagoons, 
 flooded their wide reaches, and touched 
 with a soft splendor each sculptured 
 facade and arching bridge of the Riva, 
 and the masts and hulls and loose-reefed 
 sails of a group of fishing boats lying 
 close alongside the quay. Far up the 
 canal, a tenor voice could be heard, 
 strong and melodious, and stray gondolas 
 were tending toward it. 
 
 Suddenly, more than one oar was 
 stayed, and more than one face was 
 turned toward the Canti barge. The 
 music had begun, with a familiar Nea 
 politan melody, in which all the voices 
 and instruments took part. But high 
 above them all rose a clear soprano, only 
 the sweeter and the richer for the dull 
 rhythm of the lesser voices. One by one 
 the receding gondolas turned and came 
 nearer, one bright eye gleaming at each 
 prow, as they stole like conspirators upon 
 
2 7o B Venetian $ime 
 
 the gaily lanterned barge. And from far 
 ther away still, from the Grand Canal and 
 from the waters of the Giudecca, black 
 barks came floating, aticl silently joined 
 the growing throng. The chorus had 
 sung twice, thrice, four times, always 
 the popular airs, so familiar, yet to-night 
 so new, by reason of the lift and brilliancy 
 of the leading voice. 
 
 One of the men stepped across the 
 Colonel s gondola and on from one to 
 another, hat in hand. Per la musica ! 
 he entreated, and a goodly shower of 
 nickles and coppers and fluttering lire 
 were gathered in. But still not a gondola 
 moved away, and later comers had to tie 
 on the outskirts, spreading now, fan- 
 shaped, with twinkling eyes, far over 
 toward San Giorgio. 
 
 Uncle Dan fell to counting the twink 
 ling eyes, and his heart swelled within 
 him. There must be close upon a hun 
 dred people here, drawn hither, held fast, 
 by his little Polly. There she stood, in 
 her sulphur shawl, unrecognizable, to be 
 
Serenata 271 
 
 sure, but natural and self-possessed as if 
 she had been singing in her own parlor. 
 
 Somebody called for Gordigiani s O 
 Santissima Verginez. favorite song of 
 "la Canti." The singer rose again to 
 her feet. The low, pulsing accompani 
 ment sounded on the strings, and presently 
 the voice began, with a softly vibrating 
 tone, different from the resonant quality 
 which had first attracted the listeners. 
 " O Santissima Vcrgine Maria ! " 
 "I told you it was a trained voice," 
 Uncle Dan heard someone say in a neigh 
 boring gondola. I believe she s a stage 
 singer. Just listen to that ! 
 
 " Hush, don t talk ! the answer came. 
 " It s the sweetest thing I ever heard." 
 
 And in truth a delicate, penetrating 
 pathos had come into the fresh young 
 voice, pleading so melodiously for the life 
 of " mio ben." 
 
 "O Maria, O Maria," was the artless 
 supplication ; " I vow to give to thee the 
 ring my mother bought for me four years 
 ao-o, and the coral necklace, tan to bcllo ! 
 
272 B IDeitetfan 5une 
 
 And then, with simple fervor, the Ma 
 donna was assured that, would she but 
 save il poverino, a candle should be burned 
 to her every Saturday, " ogni Sabbato, 
 Mar ia y Maria ! " 
 
 As the last note ceased, sweet and sad, 
 on the night air, a burst of applause 
 went up, and, encore, encore, " the /or- 
 estieri shouted, "encore!" And other 
 gondolas came gliding up, and the spread 
 ing fan stretched in ever widening com 
 pass, divided now, like the pinions of a 
 great sable bird studded with dots of 
 light. Then, while the flowing moon 
 light brightened, and a perfumed breeze 
 came wafted over the water from the rose 
 gardens of the Giudecca, the sweet voice 
 again took up the simple and touching 
 strain. 
 
 After that it was an ovation, " an 
 ovation, I tell you," Uncle Dan would 
 declare, when bragging about it to the 
 other Polly. " Why the people were 
 perfectly carried off their feet ! When 
 the hat went round they didn t know 
 
Gbe Serenata 273 
 
 what it was they pulled out of their pock 
 ets. A ten-franc piece seemed cheap as 
 a copper. And all the time, Polly, stand 
 ing there, singing her heart out ! It was 
 an ovation, I tell you, an ovation ! " 
 
 And as Polly sang on and on, light 
 opera airs, rhythmical barcarolles, songs 
 of the people, with their naive, swinging 
 cadence, a new, exultant sense of power 
 seemed lifting her above her own level. 
 
 And presently an inspiration seized 
 her, and, leaning forward, she said to 
 Canti : " Make them row out on the 
 lagoon, toward the Lido ; I can sing 
 better there." 
 
 Then the barge loosed itself from the 
 clinging gondolas, and slowly glided out 
 and away. And all the gondolas fol 
 lowed, with the soft plash of many oars, 
 on and on, after the swinging lanterns 
 and the syren voice. 
 
 To the young girl, borne out of herself 
 into a strange, unimagined experience of 
 beauty and harmony and power, into a 
 newly awakened sympathy, too, with 
 
274 B Venetian 3-une 
 
 each dreamer and lover and mourner 
 whose lay she sang, it was as if old things 
 had passed away and all things were 
 become new. And presently, as they 
 drifted on in the flooding moonlight, 
 leaving the lights of the city behind them, 
 she could see the small, low glimmer of 
 a gondola-lamp gliding from out the 
 mysterious spaces of the lagoon. 
 
 At that moment Canti whispered a 
 request that the Signorina would sing 
 " Patria" Tito Mattei s beautiful song 
 of exile. She consented, with a feeling 
 of awe, as if acting in obedience to some 
 higher compulsion. The barge had 
 paused, and the multitudinous plash of 
 oars was hushed as she began to sing : 
 
 " Almiociel m ha tolto ilfato." 
 [" Fate has torn me from my own skies."] 
 
 The vagrant gondola had come nearer, 
 and now it was drawn close up under the 
 bow of the barge, just on the edge of the 
 throng of boats. The Signorina scarcely 
 
tTbe Serenata 275 
 
 needed to glance at the oarsman, stand 
 ing in the full light of the lanterns, to 
 know that it was no other than the exile 
 whose lament it had been given her to 
 sing. Yet, as the song ceased for a mo 
 ment, while the strings played an inter 
 lude in full, strongly vibrating chords, 
 she looked involuntarily toward the fig 
 ure whose identity she was already so 
 curiously aware of. The man made a 
 movement forward, resting on his oar, 
 and, as their eyes met, she knew that he, 
 too, had recognised her. She turned 
 away, as the song recommenced, but the 
 consciousness of what she had seen was 
 vividly present with her. He knew her, 
 he knew that she was singing for him, 
 that she was singing the song of his 
 exile. 
 
 A singular, almost fantastical exalta 
 tion took possession of the young girl, 
 an exaltation such as might have pos 
 sessed itself of a priestess of old, pouring 
 a libation to the gods in behalf of some 
 devout suppliant. He had known her, 
 
276 B Venetian 
 
 this mysterious, homeless being that had 
 come floating across the waters to hear 
 the song of his exile. A deep, thrilling 
 emotion lifted her on its crest, as the 
 long, slow, elemental rhythm of the 
 ocean had lifted the frail shell of the 
 gondola, far out at the Porto del Lido, 
 such a life-time ago. But now she did 
 not shrink from it, she was not discon 
 certed by it. She only sang on, with 
 growing passion and power. Every 
 thing small and personal seemed swept 
 away. She felt herself a human crea 
 ture, singing the needs and aspirations 
 of another human creature. She was 
 alive, she had come into her birth 
 right. This man, whose personality 
 had so haunted and harassed her, was 
 no longer an enigma ; she no longer 
 commiserated him. What mattered pov 
 erty, suffering, exile ? To be alive was 
 enough ; to have la patria, or any other 
 great and high thought in the soul was 
 infinitely more than any mere presence 
 or possession. 
 
Serenata 2 77 
 
 All this was coursing through her 
 mind, and the spirit of it was entering 
 into her song, with an urgency and 
 power that gave it a really extraordinary 
 dramatic force. The last words 
 
 " Dolce patria e il cor con tc, 
 Dolce patria il cor con te ! " 
 
 rang out with an impassioned brilliancy 
 of tone that took the listeners by storm. 
 
 As the singer sank upon her seat, not 
 spent by the effort, but rather absorbed 
 with the new thoughts and emotions that 
 were crowding upon her, the clapping of 
 many hands sounded to her remote and 
 meaningless, and she did not even notice 
 that the solitary gondola had slipped away. 
 
 Canti feared that she was really ex 
 hausted. "It is enough, Signorina," 
 he said ; "we will go home." 
 
 As the barge turned, the gondolas 
 made way for it, and then they pressed 
 about it again, to offer more money and 
 more. There was 110 longer any need 
 of passing the hat. 
 
273 a Denetian Sune 
 
 And May felt that she had finished, 
 that it was enough. She sat very still, 
 the folds of the black lace almost cover 
 ing her face, as they rowed homeward 
 to chorus after chorus of gay songs : 
 "La bclla, Napoli" " Funicoll funi- 
 cola," " Margherita." She experienced 
 no painful reaction ; she was filled with 
 an up-lifting sense of successful achieve 
 ment. And her thoughts had turned 
 almost immediately to the poor Signora 
 in whose behalf all this had been done. 
 They must have taken a great deal 
 of money, May thought, a hundred 
 francs, perhaps more. Enough to pur 
 chase a long respite for the over-worked 
 singer. Perhaps by the time the poor 
 thing was obliged to sing again, she 
 would have grown so strong and well, 
 that her voice, too, would be fresh and 
 pure, and she would have the unspeak 
 able joy of singing because she could 
 not help it. 
 
 May remembered the expression of 
 the great Italian eyes, set in the haggard 
 
Serenata 279 
 
 face, as the woman had said to her : 
 "The Madonna will bless you, Sig- 
 norina ! " Yes, she had a soul, the poor 
 Signora, hard-pressed and starved, but 
 a soul, all the same. May smiled softly 
 to herself, almost as Pauline might have 
 done. 
 
 " Funicoll fnnicola!" the chorus was 
 singing the colored lanterns were bob 
 bing with the stroke of the oars, and 
 all the while the young girl was passing 
 in review the people she knew, and won 
 dering to discover how many of them 
 were possessed of souls! There was 
 Uncle Dan and Pauline, and Mrs. Day- 
 mond, and, surely Vittorio, with his 
 fine, manly spirit, and his childlike faith. 
 They all had souls, each after his kind ; 
 they all had a comprehension of some 
 thing not visible and material. What 
 a wonderful thing life was ! She could 
 not grasp it yet, but somehow, in some 
 mysterious wise, the world was changed ; 
 not the moonlit world of romance 
 alone, but the great day-lighted world, 
 
280 
 
 Venetian 
 
 where people suffered and rejoiced and 
 grew strong. 
 
 And just as the barge came opposite 
 the glittering lights of the Piazzetta, 
 beyond and above which the luminous 
 shaft of the campanile rose straight and 
 white, tipped with its golden angel, the 
 men began to sing "Santa Lucia." And 
 once more a voice rose above the others, 
 fresh and clear as ever ; 
 
 " Sul mare luccica 
 
 L astro d ^argento ; 
 PlacidaZ Tonda 
 
 bero il vento." 
 
 And, as the bobbing lanterns disap 
 peared down a black side-canal, the 
 ringing voice echoed still from out the 
 darkness ; 
 
 " Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia / " 
 
SHOULD not so much mind if 
 there should be no moon to 
 night," said May, dipping her hand 
 over the side of the boat, to feel the 
 cool, soft wash of the wave. 
 
 " Nothing could be lovelier than this," 
 Pauline assented. 
 
 It was evening again and the girls had 
 the gondola to themselves. They were 
 skirting the low shore of the Lido, fra 
 grant with the breath of new-mown hay, 
 vocal with the chirp of crickets and the 
 dull, rhythmic thud of the waves upon 
 the beach. The sky was overcast and 
 the water was dark, save just ahead, 
 281 
 
282 H Venetian 5une 
 
 where the gondola light cast a pale reflec 
 tion, wavering softly from side to side, 
 with the motion of the courtesying prow. 
 The twin towers of San Servolo, its mas 
 sive buildings and sparse lights, had been 
 left behind, and now the gondola was 
 approaching San I^azzaro, wrapped in 
 silence and shadow, like the good monks 
 who pace its quiet paths. 
 
 Neither of the girls had felt inclined 
 to talk, yet their sense of mutual com 
 panionship was peculiarly near and inti 
 mate. Both had been absorbed in the 
 memory of the same stirring scene, and 
 though Pauline had only viewed it from 
 the outskirts she had divined something 
 of the nature of her sister s experience. 
 She felt intuitively that it had been more 
 to the young girl than a gratification of 
 vanity, or even a revelation of her own 
 power. And yet in their overt considera 
 tion of the great event, they had dwelt, 
 hitherto, more particularly upon its prac 
 tical aspects, the reticence and courtesy 
 of the band of musicians, the really con- 
 
283 
 
 siderable sum of money taken, the hun 
 dred-franc piece which had appeared in 
 the receipts, and Uncle Dan s studied 
 innocence in connection therewith. The 
 fact that May had escaped recognition had 
 also been regarded as cause for rejoicing. 
 
 May had been glad to find that, un 
 known to her, her sister had been among 
 the audience. Her presence seemed, in 
 retrospective wise, to sanction and sustain 
 her action. If Pauline was there all was 
 well. 
 
 As they glided tranquilly along the line 
 of the fragrant shore, the regular dip of 
 the oar marking the passage of the sec 
 onds, like the soft, lisping tick of certain 
 pleasant old clocks, the nine-o clock gun 
 roared its admonition from the deck of 
 the guardian of the port, and the bells 
 of San Lazzaro jangled sweetly on the 
 night air. And then it was that May 
 roused to the need of speech. 
 
 "And you knew me at once?" she 
 asked, not for the first time indeed, for 
 that was a very vital question. 
 
284 B Venetian 5une 
 
 "Yes, I knew your voice, and when 
 we came a little nearer I knew the way 
 you held your head." 
 
 " And you did n t mind? " 
 
 "No; I think, myself, it s rather 
 strange that I did not. But it seemed 
 perfectly natural and right. I believe I 
 took it all in from the first moment 
 just how you had undertaken it for the 
 sake of the poor Signora, and how then 
 you had forgotten the Signora and for 
 gotten yourself." 
 
 They were silent again, while the gon 
 dola rounded San I^azzaro and turned 
 toward home. 
 
 "Do you know what I thought of 
 while I was listening to you?" Pauline 
 asked, as the lights of the Riva appeared 
 in their line of vision, glimmering re 
 motely on the shore and in the water. 
 "Especially when you were singing that 
 glorious Patria? I thought of what 
 Signer Firenzo said about your voice, and 
 of what you said yourself, that first day 
 in Venice, about finding a soul here." 
 
Searcb^Xicibts 285 
 
 You did?" May exclaimed; then, 
 in a lower voice : " So did I ! " 
 
 They had passed San Lazzaro, and San 
 Servolo too was receding astern of them 
 before May spoke again. 
 
 "Pauline," she queried, presently: 
 "Did you see Nanni s gondola come up 
 from out the lagoon in front of us? " 
 
 " Yes, I .saw it. How ghostly it was, 
 with his solitary figure, and then that 
 tragic face of his in the light of the 
 lanterns ! " 
 
 Suddenly, as she spoke, a broad beam 
 of white light swept the long line of the 
 Riva, and leapt to the point of the cam 
 panile, striking the golden angel into 
 instantaneous brilliancy. 
 
 "What s that?" cried Pauline, star 
 tled at the suddenness of the apparition. 
 
 " It s a search-light," May answered. 
 See ! It comes from the man-of-war over 
 by Sant EHsabetta. There ! Look there ! 
 
 The light had dropped from the cam 
 panile, and now it shone full upon the 
 masts and rigging of an Bast Indiaman 
 
236 B Venetian 5une 
 
 lying off San Giorgio Maggiore. Each 
 rope and spar stood out in the intense 
 white light, distinct as if cased in ice. 
 
 " La luce elettrica" Vittorio observed, 
 unable to suppress his pride in this new 
 sensation furnished for the delectation of 
 his Signorinas. 
 
 " Pauline," said May, with grave em 
 phasis ; " Nanni knew me." 
 " You are sure ? " 
 
 "Perfectly. I saw it in his face, 
 and, besides, that is all he could have 
 meant by his message. You did n t hear 
 that, did you?" 
 
 " No ; and he left you a message ? " 
 "Yes; when we landed at Quattro 
 Fontane this morning, and found Mr. 
 Daymond there did you notice that he 
 seemed to have something to say to me ? 
 Yes ; I noticed." 
 " He wanted to tell me that he had 
 been walking on the beach with Nanni, 
 and that Nanni had gone back to Milan 
 and had left a message for me." 
 "And the message ? 
 
Searcb^Xigbts 287 
 
 " The message was, addio e grazie ! 
 Don t you see? He was thanking me 
 for the singing. I think he knew that I 
 was singing for him." 
 
 The light had sprung to the tower of 
 San Giorgio, whose straight shaft stood 
 out in new intensity of martial red, its 
 golden angel gleaming like a belated echo 
 of the angel of the campanile. 
 
 "Singing for him ? " Pauline repeated, 
 yet as if she already half understood. 
 
 "Yes, the song of exile. It was just 
 then that he came up. I m sure he knew 
 that I was thinking of him as I sang, for 
 there was a look in his face that I shall 
 never forget." 
 
 "Tell me why, dear." 
 
 " Yes ; I will tell you why, though it s 
 rather a long story," May answered, 
 yielding to an imperative need of confes 
 sion. "I can t quite account for it all, 
 but, up to last night, I had always felt 
 perplexed and disturbed about the man. 
 He made me feel a great many things I 
 had never felt before. It seemed to me 
 
288 ft tDenetian 
 
 as if I had never before known a single 
 thing about anything real, about any 
 human creature but myself. And yet I 
 suppose the very reason why this haunted 
 me so was because I did not understand. 
 I felt always that there was a mystery, 
 something I could n t get hold of, and 
 you know how I do hate a mystery." 
 
 As May forced her thoughts to take 
 shape, she felt that it was her own mind 
 rather than Pauline s that was being en 
 lightened. It was as if Pauline must un 
 derstand, as if it were Pauline who was 
 making things clear to her. Yet Pauline 
 did not say a word. She only listened, 
 her head inclined a bit, her eyes intent 
 and comprehending. 
 
 " I think/ May went on, " I think it 
 must have been something really high 
 and fine in him that made the sordidness 
 of it all seem so intolerable. I suppose it 
 is as Uncle Dan says ; these things are a 
 matter of race. I think Nanni must have 
 more than his share of the family inherit 
 ance. Did you never feel it, Pauline? " 
 
Searcb^Xigbts 
 
 " Yes, there was certainly something 
 impressive about him," Pauline admitted. 
 
 " I m glad you thought so, too. Well, 
 do you know, Pauline, it came to me 
 last night like a revelation, that I had 
 been all wrong and morbid about it. I 
 remembered how he had said to me, one 
 day when I was talking to him about 
 coming back to Venice : You mistake 
 me and my life, Signorina. It did not 
 impress me so much at the time some 
 thing drove it out of my head ; but, 
 suddenly, as I saw his face last night, I 
 seemed to understand what he meant." 
 
 They were passing near two fishing- 
 boats moored to a cluster of piles, a single 
 deck-light shining clear and steady, re 
 flected in the water like a long yellow fin 
 ger. The men had deserted the boats and 
 were swimming somewhere out of sight 
 in the darkness, their voices sounding 
 curiously near and distinct across the 
 water. 
 
 " I suppose it was the song that 
 touched him," May was saying. " It is 
 
29 B tDenetfan $une 
 
 such a. beautiful song, and the moment I 
 began singing, I felt as if it had been 
 written expressly for him. Pauline, he 
 had a look such as a man might have 
 who was facing a great renunciation, with 
 the spirit of a hero. And it came to me 
 like a flash, that a man who could look 
 like that need not mind where he lived, 
 or what his service was. And when I 
 heard to-day that he had gone back to his 
 work, I was not at all surprised, and I 
 was not even sorry for him, as I should 
 have been yesterday. I felt as if I under 
 stood." 
 
 May had been speaking fast, with an 
 eager, half questioning manner, as if 
 everything depended upon Pauline s 
 agreeing with her. Now she paused, 
 and looked into her sister s face, close 
 beside her in the dim light. And Pau 
 line returned her look with one that set 
 her heart at rest. 
 
 " I think you have discovered some 
 thing very deep and true," she said, 
 gently. " And it is one of those things 
 
291 
 
 that nobody can tell us, that we must dis 
 cover for ourselves. But, May," she 
 added, after a moment s reflection, "I 
 don t believe we need think of the man s 
 work as mean or sordid. I should think 
 it might be a very valuable sort of service 
 that he renders at the hospital. Do you 
 remember that day, the first week we 
 were here, when we were waiting for the 
 sacristan at the Madonna del Orto, and a 
 little girl on the quay fell down and hurt 
 her arm ? 
 
 " Yes ; I remember, and how quickly 
 Nanni sprang ashore and picked her up." 
 
 "Well; do you know, May, there 
 was something in the way he bent over 
 the little thing and examined her arm to 
 see if it were really hurt, that impressed 
 me very much. His touch was so gentle, 
 and there was so much intelligence in the 
 way he did it, that I have thought, ever 
 since, what a blessing it must be to have 
 such a man about in a hospital." 
 
 "Yes," said May, thoughtfully, 
 "perhaps that is why he chooses that 
 
292 B Venetian 
 
 life. That would explain a great deal. 
 I am glad you reminded me of it, Pau 
 line," and again she reached her arm 
 over the side of the boat, and let the cool 
 water slip through her fingers, watching 
 the little ripple they made upon the sur 
 face. Perhaps that was what Mr. Day- 
 mond meant when he said he had had a 
 talk with Nanni, and he did not think that 
 I need have any more anxiety about him, 
 that he was doing the work he could do 
 best, and that he was happy in doing it. 
 
 " And you had told Mr. Daymond, be 
 fore that, that you were disturbed about 
 it?" Pauline asked, with a swift, un 
 controllable contraction of the heart. 
 
 " Yes ; we had a talk about Nanni the 
 evening of the illumination. Pauline," 
 May exclaimed, with a sudden change of 
 tone, " what a waste it is that that nice 
 fellow has n t any sisters ! " 
 
 "Who? Mr. Daymond?" 
 
 " Yes ; he would make such a perfect 
 brother. He is so dear, and good, and 
 iinromantic ! " 
 
293 
 
 As the words fell, crisp and incisive on 
 the still night air, their point and mean 
 ing piercing like finely tempered steel to 
 Pauline s innermost consciousness, the 
 search-light flashed out again, striking 
 full upon the Salute. For a fleeting in 
 stant the glorious dome curved white and 
 luminous against a lowering sky, vanish 
 ing again as the light was withdrawn. 
 Pauline caught her breath, and the blood 
 raced through her veins. She was star 
 tled, she assured herself, by the sudden 
 ness of the flash. 
 
 When she spoke, her voice was tranquil 
 as ever, yet curiously shot through with 
 feeling. 
 
 " If Geoffry Daymond told you that," 
 she said, "I think you may feel sat 
 isfied." 
 
 "I do," May answered, noting with 
 surprise that her sister had given Geoffry 
 Daymond his full name ; it was not Pau 
 line s way. "Yes, I do," she repeated, 
 " it is a great relief." 
 
 It was only for a moment that Pauline s 
 
294 B IDenetfan $une 
 
 interest in her sister s story had wavered. 
 She had listened, and with unerring com 
 prehension, thanks to which she had not 
 been misled as another might have been. 
 
 There comes the moon out of the 
 clouds, she exclaimed. Take us where 
 we can see the moon, Vittorio. " 
 
 "Si, Signorina." 
 
 They had come opposite the Salute, 
 and now the prow of the gondola turned 
 in at the narrow rio that runs between 
 the great church and the lovely old Ab- 
 bazia of San Gregorio. There were de 
 serted gondolas and other craft moored at 
 one side of the little canal, and as they 
 pushed their way past them, the oar 
 lapped the water with the peculiar sound 
 it makes in passing through a restricted 
 passage. They glided under a low bridge, 
 beyond which the moon appeared, just 
 issuing from a bank of cloud, and, a mo 
 ment later, they had floated out into the 
 Giudecca, among the tall black hulls of 
 the shipping, lying there at anchor. 
 
 How good and genuine the moon 
 
295 
 
 looks after those search-lights ! " May 
 exclaimed, with a sigh of satisfaction. 
 
 Yes, but they were a wonderful 
 sight," Pauline maintained. 
 
 " Perhaps so ; but they were artificial, 
 and one does like things to be natural." 
 
 They had rowed the length of the Giu- 
 decca, watching the moon s vicissitudes 
 among the clouds, and now they had once 
 more turned toward home, making their 
 way through one of the prettiest rios of 
 the Tolentini quarter. 
 
 "I suppose," Pauline remarked, as 
 they came out upon the Grand Canal, 
 "that, in a deep sense, artificial things, 
 of the good kind, are just as natural 
 as things we have no control over. I 
 suppose we get our search-lights from 
 Nature, only in a more round-about 
 way." 
 
 "Perhaps we do," May replied ; add 
 ing, with apparent irrelevance, "and 
 I m not sure that I should be willing 
 to have missed it." 
 
296 21 Venetian 3ime 
 
 That .same evening, in the fever ward 
 of a Milan hospital, two figures were 
 standing beside a narrow cot in earnest 
 consultation. The patient was a child of 
 ten. The little face had the look of many 
 another little fever-stricken face, but the 
 hair that lay tossed upon the pillow was 
 of exceptional beauty. 
 
 "Can we save her, Signor Dottore?" 
 It was the nun who spoke. 
 
 11 We must," the doctor answered, with 
 quiet emphasis. 
 
 He stooped and lifted in his hand one 
 of the disordered tresses. It was neither 
 blonde nor auburn, but pure gold, the 
 lovely gold that sometimes shines in the 
 heart of the sunset. Bven the nun felt 
 the beauty of it. 
 
 Did you ever see such hair as that ? 
 she asked. 
 
 He laid the tress back upon the pillow, 
 very gently, and, looking into the quiet 
 eyes of the sister, he answered : 
 
 * Never but once. 
 
m 
 
 Decus et 
 
 HE search -lights 
 of that evening s 
 talk had betrayed more 
 to Pauline Beverly 
 than the transitory 
 trouble of her sister s 
 mind. In vain did she 
 try to dwell only upon 
 what May had told her, 
 upon the awakening of 
 imagination and feel 
 ing that had been re 
 vealed in the clear depths 
 of that singularly limpid nature. Unlike 
 as the sisters were, they were yet of closely 
 kindred fibre, and no one but Pauline 
 could have so clearly apprehended or so 
 justly gauged the true significance of the 
 experience which the young girl herself 
 297 
 
298 21 Venetian 5une 
 
 had found so perplexing. Yet because 
 Pauline so well understood it, the thought 
 of it did not wholly possess her mind, and 
 she could not escape an unwilling cogniz 
 ance of something deeper and far more 
 disquieting, that she had caught a glimpse 
 of in her own soul. 
 
 There was nothing of the repellant re 
 serve in Pauline s character which makes 
 itself evident to the chance acquaintance. 
 If she was innately reticent, it was in a 
 deep, still wise, to the exclusion some 
 times of her own consciousness, and it 
 was "this inner reticence that had been 
 violated. 
 
 In the succeeding hours of the night, 
 her mind recurred many times to that 
 sudden vision of the Salute dome, flash 
 ing, white and luminous upon a shadowy 
 background. It had been the apparition 
 of an instant, and 3 r et it was so clearly 
 imaged on her brain, even now, that every 
 slightest detail stood out in her memory, 
 distinct as in the light of day. And si 
 multaneously with that, a search-light had 
 
5>ecus et ipraesifcium " 299 
 
 flashed upon the hidden places of her own 
 soul, and she had had a vision which she 
 knew that no veil of reserve, impenetrable 
 though it might be, could annul. The 
 night had fallen upon the Salute and 
 wrapped it from sight, but was it the less 
 real for that ? 
 
 In the first dawning light, she got up, 
 and, throwing on a loose gown of soft, 
 pink cashmere, she stepped out upon the 
 balcony to get a breath of air. She did 
 not look toward the Salute ; something 
 withheld her from doing so, as if it had 
 involved a self-betrayal which she shrank 
 from. She turned, instead, to the East, 
 where, rising pale, but distinct, against 
 the faint rosy flush of the sky, was the 
 tower and dome of San Pietro di Castello. 
 A single star still pricked through the 
 deepening color, but, as she looked, it 
 vanished. The dip of an oar, that sound 
 that never ceases, night nor day, on the 
 great thoroughfare of Venice, reached 
 her ear, and a bird chirped in the garden. 
 Bach suggestion came to her, isolated and 
 
300 B Venetian $une 
 
 delicately individualized : the star, the 
 oar-dip, the bird-note. She felt herself 
 played upon, like a passive instrument, as 
 if a light hand had just touched one vi 
 brating string and another, careless of 
 definite melody. 
 
 The color in the East deepened to a 
 wonderful rose, against which the tower 
 and dome of San Pietro stood out in 
 purest dove-color, and more birds chirped, 
 and one burst into a little gush of song. 
 Pauline, standing on her high balcony, 
 wrapped in the soft cashmere, whose rosy 
 color seemed a reflection of the dawn, 
 felt herself, in some peculiar sense a par 
 taker in that exquisite awakening ; and, 
 in truth, the surface of the water was not 
 more sensitive to the growing wonder 
 than the delicately expressive face, turned 
 still to the Bast. Not until the sun had 
 fairly risen, and swept the color from the 
 face of the sky, did she look toward the 
 Salute. There it stood, beautiful and 
 strong and invulnerable, but behind it 
 were dark rain-clouds, heaped high and 
 threatening. 
 
S>ecus ct ipraestoium " 301 
 
 Then Pauline moved away, with a feel 
 ing of assured strength and peace. She 
 could not account for it, she could not 
 have denned it ; she only felt as if she 
 had come face to face with a great expe 
 rience, whether of joy or sorrow she 
 could not tell, but whatever its counte 
 nance she felt serenely ready to meet it. 
 
 She slept a deep, peaceful sleep after 
 that, nor did her mind misgive her when 
 she awoke again, to find that those threat 
 ening clouds had taken possession of the 
 sky, and were drenching the world with 
 rain. 
 
 They went to the Belle Arti that morn 
 ing, Pauline and May and Uncle Dan, 
 their faithful squire. Vittorio took them 
 there in the hooded gondola, himself 
 radiant in a new " impermeable " hat 
 and coat, which gave him the appearance 
 of a gigantic wet seal, swaying genially 
 on its supple tail. 
 
 As they looked out from the shelter of 
 the fclzc, more impermeable than many 
 rubber coats, May observed that it was 
 a terrible waste of opportunities to go 
 
302 l Venetian $une 
 
 about in a fdze with a mere uncle and 
 sister. 
 
 " What do you take it that a fdze is 
 for? " asked Uncle Dan, enchanted with 
 her disparaging tone. 
 
 "I suppose it was originally invented 
 for the accommodation of lovers," May 
 replied, with her familiar air of scientific 
 investigation, which caused Pauline to 
 smile contentedly. 
 
 " Other kinds of conspirators are said 
 to have found it convenient," Uncle Dan 
 observed. "Thieves and cut-throats, for 
 instance. But it strikes me as being a 
 very good place for an uncle, especially 
 in weather like this." 
 
 "And you Pauline, what is your 
 vote ? 
 
 " I should think it was a very excellent 
 place to be in with an uncle, or " 
 
 "Or? " 
 
 Or anyone else one thought particu 
 larly well of," and Pauline gave her 
 sister an appreciative smile. 
 
 Then May, usually rather unsusceptible 
 
"2>ecus et ipraesiMum" 33 
 
 to such quiet demonstrations of affection, 
 put her hand in her sister s and said ; 
 Pauline, you are a good deal of a dear ! 
 and there was a certain bright sweetness 
 in the young girl s face that caused Pau 
 line to think of the dawn, and of what a 
 perfect hour it was, and that there was 
 never any hurry about the sunrise. 
 
 They spent an hour, catalogue in hand, 
 among the less important pictures, while 
 Uncle Dan amused himself with some 
 old engravings, and then, having earned 
 their reward, the two girls strolled back 
 to the great saloons, where nothing less 
 splendid than Tintoretto and Veronese 
 makes its appeal to the conscience of the 
 sight-seer. 
 
 Pauline descended the steps to the main 
 entrance-hall, from which one has the best 
 view of Titian s "Assumption." She 
 seated herself on the broad divan, and 
 looked up through the arched doorway 
 to the glorious soaring figure, that seems, 
 not upborne by the floating cloud of 
 cherubs and angels, but rather drawing 
 
304 21 Venetian $une 
 
 all that buoyant throng upward in its 
 marvellous flight. Geoffry Daymond, 
 pausing at the top of the short flight of 
 steps a few minutes later, face to face 
 with Pauline, fancied that he discovered 
 a subtle kinship between her counte 
 nance and the pictured one ; and then, 
 as he turned to compare them, he un 
 hesitatingly gave his preference to the 
 girl of the nineteenth century, with the 
 rare, sylvan face and the uplifted look. 
 As she became aware of his approach a 
 lovely color stole into her face, and there 
 was a welcome in her eyes which she was 
 too sincere to deny. 
 
 " We wondered whether we should 
 find you here this rainy morning," she 
 said, as he came toward her down the 
 steps ; and she spoke with such quiet 
 composure that a sudden leaping emo 
 tion that had stirred him was checked 
 mid- way. 
 
 * I was looking for you," he replied. 
 * We came across the Colonel and he 
 told us you were here." 
 
" 2>ecu0 et jfrraestoium " 305 
 
 "We always come here when it rains, 
 because the light is so good," Pauline 
 observed, wondering that she could think 
 of nothing better to say. 
 
 "Yes; I know it. I passed your 
 sister just now, standing with her back 
 to the world at large, studying a Tinto 
 retto portrait." 
 
 " May really understands a good deal 
 about pictures," Pauline remarked, still 
 wondering that nothing but platitudes 
 would come to her lips. She had left 
 her seat, and they were moving toward 
 the steps. 
 
 "It seems an age since I have seen 
 you," said Geof, neglecting to reply to 
 her last observation, which, truth to tell, 
 he had scarcely heard. 
 
 " It does seem a good while," she ad 
 mitted. " Not since Quattro Fontane ; " 
 and then she laughed. " That was only 
 yesterday morning, but one doesn t 
 reckon time by clocks and calendars in 
 Venice." 
 
 " If the clocks and calendars would 
 
306 B IDenetian 5une 
 
 only pay the old gentleman as little 
 attention as we do," Geof rejoined, " how 
 lucky we should be ! " 
 
 "I wonder whether we should really 
 want time to stand still, even in Ven 
 ice," said Pauline, as they passed up the 
 steps into the room where May had last 
 been seen. 
 
 "That would depend," Geoffry an 
 swered, and there was that indescribable 
 something in his voice which she had 
 heard more than once of late, and which 
 she always found extremely discompos 
 ing. The passing of that breath of feel 
 ing was still troubling the waters of her 
 consciousness when, a moment later, 
 they were met by the other three. 
 
 Mrs. Daymond came forward and took 
 both Pauline s hands, and, straightway 
 it seemed to Pauline as if a bountiful 
 beneficent power had encompassed her 
 round about. 
 
 "Geof," said his mother, turning to 
 him, with the unfailing grace of tone and 
 gesture which was a source of perennial 
 
"Becus et ipraestMum " 307 
 
 delight to the Colonel; "I find that 
 Colonel Steele s Venetian education is 
 only half accomplished. He does not 
 know San Simeone. Supposing we all 
 go and see the old hero. It has stopped 
 raining and the men must be longing to 
 have us come out again." 
 
 "I m always ready for St. Simon," 
 Geof declared. 
 
 " I don t see how we ever overlooked 
 him in the books," said May. "He 
 sounds perfectly tremendous, with his 
 hollow cheeks and his solemn dead face." 
 
 "Then we are all going?" and Mrs. 
 Daymond looked questioningly at Pau 
 line who had not spoken. It was as if 
 the elder woman had divined something 
 of the unwonted reluctance that had 
 possessed itself of the young girl. 
 
 "Do you mind if I stay behind?" 
 Pauline asked, hesitatingly ; " I should 
 like to stay on here for a little while, 
 and then I should be glad of the walk 
 home. So please take both the gon 
 dolas." 
 
308 B IDenettan 3une 
 
 " Polly doesn t like sharp contrasts," 
 the Colonel remarked, as he passed, with 
 the others, out of the gallery and down 
 the stairs. She has probably got her 
 mind going on some little private inspi 
 ration, and she doesn t take to the idea 
 of a dead saint." 
 
 " No more do I ! " Geof announced, 
 with a reckless inconsistency, that took 
 no thought of appearances ; and, having 
 seen the party safely ensconced under the 
 felze of Pietro s gondola, he retraced his 
 steps, his head slightly bent, his hands 
 clasped behind him. 
 
 The rain had ceased, and a timid re 
 lenting had stolen into the West. Geof 
 turned and glanced from the sky to Vit- 
 torio s gondola which still lay moored 
 under the shelter of the bridge. 
 
 " If I only dared ! " he said to him 
 self; and then, flinging his head back, 
 with a free, boyish gesture, he strode on 
 to the entrance of the gallery. 
 
 Pauline had returned to her seat before 
 the great Titian. She was the only per- 
 
2>ecus et ipraesiDium " 309 
 
 son in the room at the moment. Geof 
 came across the stone floor with a ring 
 ing step which caused her to turn, in 
 startled certainty that it was he. There 
 was something in the manner of his 
 approach that affected her like a sum 
 mons, and she rose to her feet. 
 
 He came up to her and, looking straight 
 into her face, he said : " You must come 
 out. The sun will be out before we 
 know it, and one always wants to be 
 out-of-doors when, it clears." 
 
 " Are the others waiting ? " she asked. 
 
 " No ; Pietro has taken them off. But 
 I think you are right ; St. Simon is not 
 what we want this morning. Supposing 
 we make a call upon the Rezzonico 
 Madonna." 
 
 "But I was going to walk home," 
 Pauline demurred, quite sensible of her 
 own futility. 
 
 You can t. It s really very wet. Do 
 come and take a look at the Madonna." 
 
 She turned, with neither protest nor 
 assent, and walked with him down the 
 
310 B Denetlan 3une 
 
 room. She felt that she had relaxed 
 her hold upon herself. What was it she 
 was yielding to? Something imperative 
 and masterful in him, or something still 
 more masterful and imperative in her 
 own soul? She did not know, she did 
 not consider. She walked with him down 
 the stairs, and out into the outer world, 
 and she knew that she would have walked 
 with him across the very waters of the 
 Canal with the unquestioning faith of the 
 pious little princess whom legend carries 
 over dry-shod to her prayers. 
 
 Pauline spoke only once, and that was 
 when her eyes fell upon the gondola com 
 ing to meet them. 
 
 " The fclze ! " she exclaimed, under 
 her breath. If Geof heard her, he was 
 too wise to admit that he did. 
 
 " To the Madonna of the Palazzo Rez- 
 zonico," he commanded, quite as if Vit- 
 torio had been his own gondolier. It 
 crossed his mind that he ought to apolo 
 gize for his presumption, but he was not 
 in the mood for apologies. 
 
"2>ecus ct iprae6iC>ium " 311 
 
 The fdze was arranged for three, the 
 little box-seats taken out, and the chair 
 in place of them ; Geof took the chair. 
 And Vittorio rowed them swiftly with 
 the tide, up the Canal, past the tiny 
 striped church of San Vio, to which the 
 pious little princess crosses, in the pretty 
 legend, and on, to the stern and massive 
 Palazzo Rezzonico. The gondola turned 
 down the narrow rio that flows beneath 
 the poet s memorial tablet, and a few 
 strokes of the oar brought them to the 
 feet of the Madonna. 
 
 Geoffry and Pauline stepped out of the 
 felse and stood looking up at the lovely 
 figure in its flowing garments, with hands 
 clasped upon the breast, and head bowed 
 beneath its floating aureole of stars. 
 Vittorio, too, stood with his eyes fixed 
 upon the benignant face, and perhaps an 
 ave in his heart if not on his lips. 
 
 Presently Pauline said, softly: "You 
 were right." 
 
 " I was sure you would think so. It s 
 only once in a while that one knows 
 
312 B Denetian Suite 
 
 exactly what is good for one ; but then, 
 one knows ! 
 
 "Did you ever notice the inscription 
 on the pedestal ? " he asked, after a mo 
 ment. Hardly anybody ever does. 
 
 "Yes; Decus ct praesidium" Pauline 
 read. 
 
 "For grace and protection," Geoffry 
 translated, " Isn t that pretty ? " 
 
 They went inside the felze again, with 
 out giving any directions to the gondolier, 
 and Vittorio, delightedly equal to the 
 occasion, rowed on, through intricate, 
 winding ways, with many a challenging 
 sta-i ! and premi-o ! and out across the 
 Giudecca Canal. Neither Geoffry nor 
 Pauline was disposed to talk, yet neither 
 of them felt the silence oppressive. After 
 a while they found themselves floating far 
 out on the lagoon beyond San Giorgio. 
 The steady pulse of the oar went on, and 
 the light grew in sky and water. 
 
 "See how clear the Kuganean hills 
 are," Pauline said, looking out through 
 the little window to those deep-blue pyra- 
 
44 Becus ct ipraestoium " 313 
 
 mids, rising beyond the wide, opaline 
 waters. 
 
 Geof, who was again sitting in the little 
 chair, came down on one knee, to bring 
 his eyes on a level with the window, and, 
 steadying himself with his hand on the 
 tufted cord, looked forth and saw the first 
 ray of sunlight break through the clouds 
 and gild the waiting waters. And then 
 he turned from that glistening light and 
 looked into Pauline s face. 
 
 The gathering brightness of the world 
 outside seemed only to deepen the shadow 
 and the sheltering privacy of the low, 
 arching roof above their heads ; the rhyth 
 mic throb of the oar seemed to grow 
 stronger and more imperative ; the onward 
 impulse of it seized and mastered him. 
 He had meant to say so many things, to 
 urge so many reasons, to make such hum 
 ble entreaties. But, looking into that 
 tender, gracious face, one thought alone 
 possessed him, and lie only said : " Pau 
 line, I love you ! 
 
 Then a wonderful light came into the 
 
3H S Venetian 3une 
 
 face he loved, and she answered, as simply 
 as a little child : " I know it, Geoffry ! " 
 
 "It seems as if the lagoons belonged 
 to them, this evening, eh, Polly? " 
 
 Uncle Dan and May were standing in 
 the balcony, watching the receding gon 
 dola. The stars were shining clear and 
 high, the lagoon would be strewn with 
 them. Far away on the horizon, May 
 could see a revolving light, coming and 
 going, coming and going. She longed to 
 be out. 
 
 " There s the Grand Canal," she sug 
 gested, modestly. 
 
 " Yes ; there s the Grand Canal. But, 
 Polly, what do you say to making a call 
 on the Signora ? " 
 
 May turned her bright eyes to those of 
 the old soldier, that gleamed question- 
 ingly, almost entreatingly, under the 
 grizzly eye-brows. 
 
 " That would be very nice," she said, 
 suppressing a little sigh of resignation. 
 
 " Good girl ! " cried the Colonel, 
 
2>ecus et praesifctum" 315 
 
 " And, look here, Polly, perhaps it s you 
 who are to be the support of my old age, 
 after all. Who knows? and he cast a 
 glance, half humorous, half reproachful, 
 in the direction in which the gondola had 
 disappeared. He was not yet quite recon 
 ciled to the trick fate had played him. 
 
 Then May slipped her hand inside his 
 arm, in her own confiding way, and, look 
 ing affectionately into the seamed and 
 seared old face, she said, with roguish 
 sweetness : " I tell you what, Uncle Dan ! 
 We shall have to grow old together, you 
 and I!" 
 
 THE END. 
 
3H S Venetian 3unc 
 
 face he loved, and she answered, as simply 
 as a little child : " I know it, Geoffry ! " 
 
 "It seems as if the lagoons belonged 
 to them, this evening, eh, Polly? " 
 
 Uncle Dan and May were standing in 
 the balcony, watching the receding gon 
 dola. The stars were shining clear and 
 high, the lagoon would be strewn with 
 them. Far away on the horizon, May 
 could see a revolving light, coming and 
 going, coming and going. She longed to 
 be out. 
 
 " There s the Grand Canal," she sug 
 gested, modestly. 
 
 " Yes ; there s the Grand Canal. But, 
 Polly, what do you say to making a call 
 on the Signora ? " 
 
 May turned her bright eyes to those of 
 the old soldier, that gleamed question- 
 ingly, almost entreatingly, under the 
 grizzly eye-brows. 
 
 " That would be very nice," she said, 
 suppressing a little sigh of resignation. 
 
 " Good girl ! " cried the Colonel. 
 
Decus et praesiDium" 315 
 
 " And, look here, Polly, perhaps it s you 
 who are to be the support of my old age, 
 after all. Who knows ? and he cast a 
 glance, half humorous, half reproachful, 
 in the direction in which the gondola had 
 disappeared. He was not yet quite recon 
 ciled to the trick fate had played him. 
 
 Then May slipped her hand inside his 
 arm, in her own confiding way, and, look 
 ing affectionately into the seamed and 
 seared old face, she said, with roguish 
 sweetness : " I tell you what, Uncle Dan ! 
 We shall have to grow old together, you 
 and I!" 
 
 THE: END. 
 
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