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Updated: September 24, 2025
"Let it go very gently," he said. "I will tell you when you have lowered enough." Holding the end of the rope firmly, the girl let it out inch by inch. "That is enough," the Prince said at last; and she held him where he was, leaning over the balcony towards him. "Prince Padema," she said to him. "Ah!" cried the man with a start. "How did you learn my name?" "I have long known it.
Then he fell forward on his face and the tragedy ended. Prince Padema sat desolately on his lofty balcony at Florence, and cursed things generally. Fate had indeed dealt hardly with the young man. The Prince had been misled by the apparent reasonableness of the adage, that if you want a thing well done you should do it yourself.
"I cannot tell you that," answered the girl. "My own spirit seemed to leave me when the body of my sister was brought from the canal at the foot of our garden. You know the place well; you know the gate and the steps. I think her spirit then took the place of my own. Ever since that day I have lived only for revenge, and now, Prince Padema, the hour I have waited for is come."
When he was within a foot of his balcony she loosened the rope, and again he sunk to where he had been before, and hung there exhausted by his futile effort. "I will marry you," he said, "if you will let me reach my balcony again. I will, upon my honour. You shall be a princess." She laughed lightly. "We Venetians never forget nor forgive. Prince Padema, good-bye!"
Seldom had fate played a man so scurvy a trick, and the Prince was fully justified in his cursing, for the unfortunate episode had interrupted a most absorbing amour which, at that moment, was rapidly approaching an interesting climax. Prince Padema had been several weeks in Florence, and those weeks had been deadly dull.
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