s
made to stop at the customs-house simply _pro forma_.

It was past eight o'clock when the gondola left the boathouse. From the
lofty summits the mist had descended upon the lake, and it was raining.
Sad, sad day! Sad, sad journey! Neither Franco, the servant, nor
Aliprandi spoke a word. They passed S. Mamette and Casarico, and then,
amidst the mist beyond the olives of Maine, the white walls of Maria's
resting-place appeared. Franco's eyes filled with tears. "No, dear," he
thought; "no, love; no, my life, you are not there; and I thank my God,
who tells me not to believe this horrid thing!" A few strokes more and
there was the little house of happy days, of bitter hours, of
misfortune; there was the window of the room where Luisa was giving
herself up to black grief, the loggia where, henceforth, poor old Uncle
Piero would spend his days alone, that just man who was going down to
the grave in silence, in tribulation, in weariness. Franco longed to
know what had happened after his departure; if the police had worried
Uncle Piero and Luisa. In vain he strained his eyes: no living being was
to be seen either on the terrace, in the little garden, or at the
windows of the loggia. All was silent, all was calm. He stopped rowing,
searching for some sign of life. Dr. Aliprandi opened the door of the
_felze_[S] and begged him to resume his rowing, begged him not betray
himself. At that moment Leu came to the parapet of the little garden,
with a jug in her hand; she glanced at the gondola and then entered the
loggia. Uncle Piero must be in the loggia, and they were taking him the
customary glass of milk, so probably nothing had happened. Franco once
more began to row, and Dr. Aliprandi closed the door. They glided past
the little garden, past the other houses of Oria, and the gondola turned
towards the landing-stage of the customs-house.

Bianconi, sitting under an umbrella and fishing for tench, spied the
gondola, and, dropping his pole, came forward to pay his respects to the
Marchesa. But he found Dr. Aliprandi instead, who so upset him by his
alarming account of the lady that he felt called upon to summon his
Peppina and impart the news to her; and Peppina, poor woman, was obliged
to act a little comedy of affliction under her Carlascia's umbrella.
Both husband and wife exhorted Aliprandi to make haste, to return
quickly. The big mastiff gave him permission to cross directly from
Gandria to Cressogno on the way back. Then