Carletto back with her to Venice
and himself remain with his mother. He would not consent to this. The
physician was to spend the night at the villa. The Marchesa was sleeping
quietly now under a strong sedative. Her faithful old _cameriera_ of
forty years' standing was at the bedside. He was not willing for Sophy
to take the journey back without him.

At half-past ten they walked once more through the old garden. The soft
night was wonderful with stars. Carletto went ahead carrying a candle.
His knotty fingers, through which the flame shone in gold and reddish
streaks, and the silver outline of his hair, glided forward mysteriously
against the purple bloom of the night. On the river bank, they saw the
glow of a lantern where the gondolieri were getting things in readiness.
Then the brazen beak of the gondola gleamed suddenly.

When they entered it and the gondolieri began to row, it seemed to Sophy
that the quiet river, veiled in darkness like the stream of fate, was
gliding with them to some appointed end. A feeling of presage welled in
her. She shivered and drew closer to Amaldi.

The night was hushed and grave. The banks stole by soft with grass or
the brooding dimness of foliage. The fields were quiet as sleep. Against
the violet dark rose sometimes the roofs of thatched cottages and now
and then a lighted window shone out--the watchful, steadfast eye of
home.

The gates of the first lock opened--the gondola floated in. Slowly,
almost imperceptibly, they began to sink with the ebbing water. Little
by little, the trees, the houses, the tranquil fields slipped from
view. Now they were in a dark well, as in a tomb together. A strip of
starry sky shone above. They looked up at it without speaking. The dark
lock was like their present--the strip of sky with its secret writing of
stars was like the far hope that glimmered for them above the gulf of
years....

The gates unclosed again; they glided out once more upon the Brenta, and
more than ever it seemed to Sophy like the hidden stream of fate,
bearing them to an appointed end.

LII

When they turned into the Rio San Vio, it was nearly one o'clock.
Glancing up at the windows of her flat, Sophy saw that the little
drawing-room was lighted. Some one came to one of the windows and looked
out between the slats of the blinds as the gondola stopped before the
house--Rosa, probably--poor soul, sick with anxiety!

Amaldi stepped ashore and held out his hand. T