being disappointed, because I'd wanted the Chauffeulier
to be with us when I saw Venice first; but I couldn't say that; and I'm
afraid he thought, as everybody was silent, that nobody cared.

There was nothing to show the turning to Mestre, except a small tablet
that we might easily have missed; and the road was laughably narrow,
running along a causeway with a deep ditch on either hand. Aunt Kathryn
was so afraid that a horse would come round one of the sharp bends
walking on its hind legs, that she was miserable, but I trusted Mr.
Barrymore and enjoyed the country--real country now, with no more
palaces, villas, or beautiful arcaded farmhouses.

The distance was hidden by long, waving grasses, over which the blue
line of the Corinthian Alps seemed to hover like a cloud. There was a
pungent smell of salt and of seaweed in the air, that meant the nearness
of the lagoon--and Venice. Then, suddenly, the "something" Mr. Barrymore
had told us to look for, grew out of the horizon--dim and mysterious,
yet not to be mistaken; hyacinth-blue streaks that were pinnacles and
campanili, bubbles that were domes, floating between the gold of the
sunset and the grey-green of the tall grass, for no water was visible
yet.

"Venice!" I whispered; but though Beechy and Aunt Kathryn each cried:
"Oh, there it is! _I_ saw it first!" they were so absorbed in a
discussion as to what the Prince's friends ought to be called, and they
soon lost interest in the vision.

"Conte! It's like Condy's Fluid!" said Beechy. "I won't call him
'Conte.' I should laugh in his face. If plain Count isn't good enough
for him, and Countess for her, I shall just say 'You'--so there!"

Soon we saw a great star-shaped fortress as we ran into a town, which
was Mestre; and at the same time we lost shadow-Venice. Passing a
charming villa set back behind an avenue of cypresses and plane trees
that gave an effect of dappling moonlight even in full day, some one in
the tall gateway waved his hand.

"By Jove, it's Leo Bari, the artist!" exclaimed Sir Ralph. "I forgot his
people lived here. I know him well; he comes to the Riviera to paint. Do
slow down, Terry."

So "Terry" slowed down, and a handsome, slim young man ran up, greeting
Sir Ralph gaily in English. He was introduced to us, and his sister, a
lovely Italian girl with Titian hair, was invited to leave the becoming
background of the gateway to make our acquaintance.

They were interested in the details of