him.

Quiet days would begin early the next morning, and on Saturday a new,
fruitful life in the service of the only true word, Art, divine Art,
would commence for him. He would enjoy this one more evening of pleasure,
this night of joy; drain it to the dregs. He fancied he had won a right
that day to taste every bliss earth could give.

Torches, pitch-pans and lamps made the square of St. Mark's as bright as
day, and the maskers crowded upon its smooth pavement as if it were the
floor of an immense ball-room.

Intoxicating music, loud laughter, low, tender whispers, sweet odors from
the floating tresses of fair women bewildered Ulrich's senses, already
confused by success and joy. He boldly accosted every one, and if he
suspected that a fair face was concealed under a mask, drew nearer,
touched the strings of a lute, that hung by a purple ribbon round his
neck, and in the notes of a tender song besought love.

Many a wave of the fan rewarded, many an angry glance from men's dark
eyes rebuked the bold wooer. A magnificent woman of queenly height now
passed, leaning on the arm of a richly-dressed cavalier.

Was not that the fair Claudia, who a short time before had lost enormous
sums at the gaming-table in the name of the rich Grimani, and who had
invited Ulrich to visit her later, during Lent?

It was, he could not be mistaken, and now followed the pair like a
shadow, growing bolder and bolder the more angrily the cavalier rebuffed
him with wrathful glances and harsh words; for the lady did not cease to
signify that she recognized him and enjoyed his playing. But the nobleman
was not disposed to endure this offensive sport. Pausing in the middle of
the square, he released his arm with a contemptuous gesture, saying: "The
lute-player, or I, my fair one; you can decide----"

The Venetian laughed loudly, laid her hand on Ulrich's arm and said: "The
rest of the Shrove-Tuesday night shall be yours, my merry singer."

Ulrich joined in her gayety, and taking the lute from his neck, offered
it to the cavalier, with a defiant gesture, exclaiming:

"It's at your disposal, Mask; we have changed parts. But please hold it
firmer than you held your lady." High play went on in the gaming hall;
Claudia was lucky with the artist's gold.

At midnight the banker laid down the cards. It was Ash-Wednesday, the
hall must be cleared; the quiet Lenten season had begun.

The players withdrew into the adjoining rooms, among them the