wered to each other from different
points on the canals, in the songs of the gondoliers. Her constant
companion and Mentor was near, while the ghostly father of them both
stood deeper in the room.

"There may be pleasanter towns on the main, and capitals of more
revelry," said the charmed Violetta, withdrawing her person from its
leaning attitude, as the voices ceased; "but in such a night and at this
witching hour, what city may compare with Venice?"

"Providence has been less partial in the distribution of its earthly
favors than is apparent to a vulgar eye," returned the attentive
Carmelite. "If we have our peculiar enjoyments and our moments of divine
contemplation, other towns have advantages of their own; Genoa and Pisa,
Firenze, Ancona, Roma, Palermo, and, chiefest of all, Napoli--"

"Napoli, father!"

"Daughter, Napoli. Of all the towns of sunny Italy, 'tis the fairest and
the most blessed in natural gifts. Of every region I have visited,
during a life of wandering and penitence, that is the country on which
the touch of the Creator hath been the most God-like!"

"Thou art imaginative to-night, good Father Anselmo. The land must be
fair indeed, that can thus warm the fancy of a Carmelite."

"The rebuke is just. I have spoken more under the influence of
recollections that came from days of idleness and levity, than with the
chastened spirit of one who should see the hand of the Maker in the most
simple and least lovely of all his wondrous works."

"You reproach yourself causelessly, holy father," observed the mild
Donna Florinda, raising her eyes towards the pale countenance of the
monk; "to admire the beauties of nature, is to worship Him who gave them
being."

At that moment a burst of music rose on the air, proceeding from the
water beneath the balcony. Donna Violetta started back, abashed; and as
she held her breath in wonder, and haply with that delight which open
admiration is apt to excite in a youthful female bosom, the color
mounted to her temples.

"There passeth a band," calmly observed the Donna Florinda.

"No, it is a cavalier! There are gondoliers, servitors in his colors."

"This is as hardy as it may be gallant," returned the monk, who
listened to the air with an evident and grave displeasure.

There was no longer any doubt but that a serenade was meant. Though the
custom was of much use, it was the first time that a similar honor had
been paid beneath the window of Donna Violetta. T