ladness. But there, at the banquet-table's head
he saw his dead child Elena alive, and at her side a husband. And when
the whole truth had been declared, he not only kissed and embraced the
pair who knelt before him, but of his goodness forgave the nurse, who in
her turn came trembling to his feet. Then fell there joy and bliss in
over-measure that night upon both palaces of the Canal Grande. And with
the morrow the Church blessed the spousals which long since had been on
both sides vowed and consummated.

VI.--ON THE LAGOONS.

The mornings are spent in study, sometimes among pictures, sometimes in
the Marcian Library, or again in those vast convent chambers of the
Frari, where the archives of Venice load innumerable shelves. The
afternoons invite us to a further flight upon the water. Both sandolo
and gondola await our choice, and we may sail or row, according as the
wind and inclination tempt us.

Yonder lies San Lazzaro, with the neat red buildings of the Armenian
convent. The last oleander blossoms shine rosy pink above its walls
against the pure blue sky as we glide into the little harbour. Boats
piled with coal-black grapes block the landing-place, for the Padri are
gathering their vintage from the Lido, and their presses run with new
wine. Eustace and I have not come to revive memories of Byron--that
curious patron saint of the Armenian colony--or to inspect the
printing-press, which issues books of little value for our studies. It
is enough to pace the terrace, and linger half an hour beneath the low
broad arches of the alleys pleached with vines, through which the domes
and towers of Venice rise more beautiful by distance.

Malamocco lies considerably farther, and needs a full hour of stout
rowing to reach it. Alighting there, we cross the narrow strip of land,
and find ourselves upon the huge sea-wall--block piled on block--of
Istrian stone in tiers and ranks, with cunning breathing-places for the
waves to wreak their fury on and foam their force away in fretful waste.
The very existence of Venice may be said to depend sometimes on these
_murazzi_, which were finished at an immense cost by the Republic in the
days of its decadence. The enormous monoliths which compose them had to
be brought across the Adriatic in sailing vessels. Of all the Lidi, that
of Malamocco is the weakest; and here, if anywhere, the sea might effect
an entrance into the lagoon. Our gondoliers told us of some places where
the _mura