nesty when I showed her a letter in the beloved Alberto's handwriting.
Then she declared that she could not possibly go off with a total
stranger. Then she discovered that, upon further consideration, she
could not abandon poor dear papa in his old age. And so forth, and so
forth, with a running accompaniment of tears and sobs. Of course she
consented at last to enter the boat; but I was so exasperated by her
silly behaviour that I would not speak to her, and had really scarcely
noticed whether she was pretty or plain till we were more than half-way
to Mestre. But when we had hoisted our sail, and were running before a
fine, fresh breeze toward the land, and our four men had shipped their
oars and were chattering and laughing under their breath in the bows,
and the first perils of our enterprise seemed to have been safely
surmounted, my equanimity began to return to me, and I stole a glance at
the partner of my flight, who had lifted her veil, and showed a pretty,
round, childish face, with a clear, brown complexion, and a pair of
the most splendid dark eyes it has ever been my good fortune to
behold. There were no tears in them now, but a certain half-frightened,
half-mischievous light instead, as if she rather enjoyed the adventure,
in spite of its inauspicious opening. A very little encouragement
induced her to enter into conversation, and ere long she was prattling
away as unrestrainedly as if we had been friends all our lives. She
asked me a great many questions. What was I doing in Venice? Had I known
Alberto long? Was I very fond of him? Did I think that the old Count
von Rosenau would be very angry when he heard of his son's marriage?
I answered her as best I could, feeling very sorry for the poor little
soul, who evidently did not in the least realise the serious nature
of the step which she was about to take; and she grew more and more
communicative. In the course of a quarter of an hour I had been put in
possession of all the chief incidents of her uneventful life.

I had heard how she had lost her mother when she was still an infant;
how she had been educated partly by two maiden aunts, partly in a
convent at Verona; how she had latterly led a life of almost complete
seclusion in the old Venetian palace; how she had first met Alberto; and
how, after many doubts and misgivings, she had finally been prevailed
upon to sacrifice all for his sake, and to leave her father,
who,--stern, severe, and suspicious, thoug