condemned them without thought of their origin or power.  At the appeal of the governess he turned away and silently quitted the room.  Donna Florinda left the balcony and drew near her charge.  There was no explanation, nor any audible or visible means of making their sentiments known to each other.  Violetta threw herself into the arms of her more experienced friend, and struggled to conceal her face in her bosom.  At this moment the music suddenly ceased, and the plash of oars falling into the water succeeded.

“He is gone!” exclaimed the young creature who had been the object of the serenade, and whose faculties, spite of her confusion, had lost none of their acuteness.  “The gondolas are moving away, and we have not made even the customary acknowledgments for their civility!”

“It is not needed—­or rather it might increase a hazard that is already too weighty.  Remember thy high destiny, my child, and let them depart.”

“And yet methinks one of my station should not fail in courtesy.  The compliment may mean no more than any other idle usage, and they should not quit us unthanked.”

“Rest you within.  I will watch the movement of the boats, for it surpasseth female endurance not to note their aspect.”

“Thanks, dearest Florinda! hasten, lest they enter the other canal ere thou seest them.”

The governess was quickly in the balcony.  Active as was her movement, her eyes were scarcely cast upon the shadow beneath, before a hurried question demanded what she beheld.

“Both gondolas are gone,” was the answer; “that with the musicians is already entering the great canal, but that of the cavalier hath unaccountably disappeared!”

“Nay, look again; he cannot be in such haste to quit us.”

“I had not sought him in the right direction.  Here is his gondola, by the bridge of our own canal.”

“And the cavalier?  He waits for some sign of courtesy; it is meet that we should not withhold it.”

“I see him not.  His servitor is seated on the steps of the landing, while the gondola appeareth to be empty.  The man hath an air of waiting, but I nowhere see the master!”

“Blessed Maria! can aught have befallen the gallant Duca di Sant’ Agata?”

“Naught but the happiness of casting himself here!” exclaimed a voice near the person of the heiress.  The Donna Violetta turned her gaze from the balcony, and beheld him who filled all her thoughts at her feet.

The cry of the girl, the exclamation of her friend, and a rapid and eager movement of the monk, brought the whole party into a group.

“This may not be,” said the latter in a reproving voice.  “Arise, Don Camillo, lest I repent listening to your prayer; you exceed our conditions.”

“As much as this emotion exceedeth my hopes,” answered the noble.  “Holy father, it is a sin to oppose Providence!  Providence brought me to the rescue of this lovely being when accident threw her into the Giudecca, and once more Providence is my friend, by permitting me to be a witness of this feeling.  Speak, fair Violetta, thou wilt not be an instrument of the Senate’s selfishness—­thou wilt not hearken to their wish of disposing of thy hand on the mercenary who would trifle with the most sacred of all vows to possess thy wealth?”