Every thing chimed in with such a humor in this old mermaid of a city.  My suite of apartments were in a proud, melancholy palace on the grand canal, formerly the residence of a Magnifico, and sumptuous with the traces of decayed grandeur.  My gondolier was one of the shrewdest of his class, active, merry, intelligent, and, like his brethren, secret as the grave; that is to say, secret to all the world except his master.  I had not had him a week before he put me behind all the curtains in Venice.  I liked the silence and mystery of the place, and when I sometimes saw from my window a black gondola gliding mysteriously along in the dusk of the evening, with nothing visible but its little glimmering lantern, I would jump into my own zenduletto, and give a signal for pursuit.  But I am running away from my subject with the recollection of youthful follies, said the Baronet, checking himself; “let me come to the point.”

Among my familiar resorts was a Cassino under the Arcades on one side of the grand square of St. Mark.  Here I used frequently to lounge and take my ice on those warm summer nights when in Italy every body lives abroad until morning.  I was seated here one evening, when a group of Italians took seat at a table on the opposite side of the saloon.  Their conversation was gay and animated, and carried on with Italian vivacity and gesticulation.

I remarked among them one young man, however, who appeared to take no share, and find no enjoyment in the conversation; though he seemed to force himself to attend to it.  He was tall and slender, and of extremely prepossessing appearance.  His features were fine, though emaciated.  He had a profusion of black glossy hair that curled lightly about his head, and contrasted with the extreme paleness of his countenance.  His brow was haggard; deep furrows seemed to have been ploughed into his visage by care, not by age, for he was evidently in the prime of youth.  His eye was full of expression and fire, but wild and unsteady.  He seemed to be tormented by some strange fancy or apprehension.  In spite of every effort to fix his attention on the conversation of his companions, I noticed that every now and then he would turn his head slowly round, give a glance over his shoulder, and then withdraw it with a sudden jerk, as if something painful had met his eye.  This was repeated at intervals of about a minute, and he appeared hardly to have got over one shock, before I saw him slowly preparing to encounter another.

After sitting some time in the Cassino, the party paid for the refreshments they had taken, and departed.  The young man was the last to leave the saloon, and I remarked him glancing behind him in the same way, just as he passed out at the door.  I could not resist the impulse to rise and follow him; for I was at an age when a romantic feeling of curiosity is easily awakened.  The party walked slowly down the Arcades, talking and laughing as they went.