e.

But the darkest day of all to me was when a good-looking young
gondolier, standing right end uppermost in his gondola (for I could see
_him_ in the flesh), worked his craft alongside the house, and stood
talking to her as she sat on the balcony. They seemed to speak as old
friends--indeed, as well as I could make out, he held her by the hand
during the whole of their interview which lasted quite half an hour.
Eventually he pushed off, and left my heart heavy within me. But I soon
took heart of grace, for as soon as he was out of sight, the little maid
threw two flowers growing on the same stem--an allegory of which I could
make nothing, until it broke upon me that she meant to convey to me
that he and she were brother and sister, and that I had no cause to be
sad. And thereupon I nodded to her cheerily, and she nodded to me, and
laughed aloud, and I laughed in return, and all went on again as before.

Then came a dark and dreary time, for it became necessary that I should
undergo treatment that confined me absolutely to my bed for many days,
and I worried and fretted to think that the little maid and I should see
each other no longer, and worse still, that she would think that I had
gone away without even hinting to her that I was going. And I lay awake
at night wondering how I could let her know the truth, and fifty plans
flitted through my brain, all appearing to be feasible enough at night,
but absolutely wild and impracticable in the morning. One day--and it
was a bright day indeed for me--the old woman who tended me told me that
a gondolier had inquired whether the English signor had gone away or had
died; and so I learnt that the little maid had been anxious about me,
and that she had sent her brother to inquire, and the brother had no
doubt taken to her the reason of my protracted absence from the window.

From that day, and ever after during my three weeks of bed-keeping, a
flower was found every morning on the ledge of my window, which was
within easy reach of anyone in a boat; and when at last a day came when
I could be moved, I took my accustomed place on my sofa at the window,
and the little maid saw me, and stood on her head (so to speak) and
clapped her hands upside down with a delight that was as eloquent as my
right-end-up delight could be. And so the first time the gondolier
passed my window I beckoned to him, and he pushed alongside, and told
me, with many bright smiles, that he was glad indeed to