our tour, especially when they
heard that, after a week in Venice, we were going into Dalmatia.

"Why, I'm going down to Ragusa to paint," said he. "I've been before,
but this time I take my sister Beatrice. She paints too. We go by the
Austrian Lloyd to-morrow. Perhaps we see you there?"

"Have you ever been down as far as Cattaro?" asked Aunt Kathryn, from
whose tongue the names of Dalmatian towns fall trippingly, since she
"acquired" a castle and a title there.

"Oh, yes, and to Montenegro," replied the artist.

"And do you remember the houses of the neighbourhood?" went on Aunt
Kathryn.

"It is already but two years I was there, so a house would have to be
young for me not to remember," replied the young man, unconscious of the
funny little twist of his English.

"I am thinking of a very old house; Slosh--er--the Castle of Hrvoya.
Have you seen it?"

"Ah, that old ruin!" exclaimed the artist. "I seen it, yes. But there is
not more much Schloss Hrvoya to see, only the rock for it to stand."

Poor Aunt Kathryn! I was sorry for her. But she bore the blow well, and,
after all, it's the title, not the castle for which she cares
most--that, and the right to smear everything with crowns.

"Perhaps I'll ask you to paint Hrvoya for me some day," she said. But
afterwards, when we had bidden the handsome brother and sister _au
revoir_, she remarked that she was afraid Mr. Bari hadn't an artistic
eye.

The good-byes said, we swept through the picturesque town to make up for
lost time, and presently encountered a little electric tram running
seaward on a causeway. We followed over a grass-grown road, and suddenly
found Venice again, so near that we could actually distinguish one
building from another. Beyond a broad stretch of water the dream city
floated on the sea.

"Look; I did this for _you_, so that you would go into Venice in a way
worthy of yourself," the Prince murmured in my ear, when the car had
stopped, joining his which was waiting. He waved his hand towards a
wonderful gondola, with a gesture such as Aladdin's Genie might have
used to indicate the magic palace. The glossy black coat of the
swan-like thing brought out the full value of the rich gold ornaments. A
long piece of drapery trailed into the water behind, and two gondoliers,
like bronze statues dressed in dark blue, crimson, and white, stood up
tall and erect against a background of golden sea and sky.

They helped us in, hat in hand; and not