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What other possible reason could there have been for her so blushing? for the glance of those wild appealing eyes? for the unusual tumult of that throbbing bosom? for the convulsive pressure of that trembling hand? that hand which fell, as Mentoni turned into the palace, accidentally, upon the hand of the stranger.
Who does not remember that, at such a time as this, the eye, like a shattered mirror, multiplies the images of its sorrow, and sees in innumerable far-off places, the wo which is close at hand? Many steps above the Marchesa, and within the arch of the water-gate, stood, in full dress, the Satyr-like figure of Mentoni himself.
It was the Marchesa Aphrodite the adoration of all Venice the gayest of the gay the most lovely where all were beautiful but still the young wife of the old and intriguing Mentoni, and the mother of that fair child, her first and only one, who now, deep beneath the murky water, was thinking in bitterness of heart upon her sweet caresses, and exhausting its little life in struggles to call upon her name.
Yon dark, gloomy niche, too, yawns right opposite her chamber window what, then, could there be in its shadows in its architecture in its ivy-wreathed and solemn cornices that the Marchesa di Mentoni had not wondered at a thousand times before? Nonsense!
But thou hearest those strains of the hautboys?" "Are they so rare on the canals, that they drive thee from the balcony?" "There are cavaliers beneath the windows of the Mentoni palace; doubtless they compliment our friend Olivia." "Even that gallantry is common. Thou knowest that Olivia is shortly to be united to her kinsman, and he takes the usual means to show his admiration."
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