“The gondolas constantly approached.  My brother lay lost in thoughts which were visible in the shadow they cast upon his features.  His head rested upon his hand, and he looked fixedly toward the island on which the convent stands.  A light summer cloak was drawn around him, and hid his figure entirely, except his arm and hand.  His cap was drawn down over his eyes.  He was not conscious of any being in the world but Sulpizia.

“Suddenly from the convent tower the sound of the vesper bell trembled in throbbing music over the water.  It seemed to ring every soul to prayer.  My brother did not move.  He still gazed intently at the island, and the tears stole from his eyes.  Luigi crossed himself.  We did the same, and murmured an Ave Maria.

“‘Heavens!  Camillo!’ cried my mother, suddenly.  He started, and was so near that there was a mutual recognition.  In a moment the gondolas were side by side, and the greetings of a brother and sisters and mother long parted, followed.  Meanwhile, Camillo’s companion remained silent, having respectfully removed his hat, and looking as if he felt his presence to be profane at such a moment.  But my brother turned, and taking him by the hand, said: 

“’Dear mother, I might well have stayed away from you twice as long, could I have hoped to find a friend like this.’

“His companion smiled at the generosity of his introduction.  He greeted us all cordially and cheerfully, and the light fading rapidly, we rowed on in the early starlight.  The gondolas slid side by side, and there was a constant hum of talk.

“I alone was silent.  I felt a sympathy with Camillo which I had never known before.  The tears came into my eyes as I watched him gently conversing with my mother, turning now and then in some conversation with Luigi and my younger sister.  How I watched Luigi!  How I caught the words that were not addressed to me!  How my heart throbbed at his sweet, humorous laugh, in which my sister joined, while his eyes wandered wonderingly toward mine, as if to ask why I was so silent.  I tried to see that they fastened upon me with special interest.  I could not do it.  Gracious and gentle to all, I could not perceive that his manner toward me was different, and I felt a new sorrow.

“So we glided over the Lagune into the canal, and beneath the balconied palaces, until we reached our own.  The gondolas stopped.  Luigi leaped out instantly upon the broad marble pavement, and assisted my mother to alight, then my sister.  Then I placed my hand in his, and my heart stood still.  It was a moment, but it was also an age.  The next instant I stood free upon the step.  Free—­but bound forever.

“We were passing up the staircase into the palace, Luigi plucked an orange bud and handed it to me.  I was infinitely happy!

“A few steps further, and he broke an acacia for my sister:  ah!  I was miserable!

“We ascended into the great saloon, and a cheerful evening followed.  Fascinated by these first impressions of Venice, Luigi abandoned himself to his abundant genius, and left us at midnight, mutually enchanted.  Youth and sympathy had overcome all other considerations.  We had planned endless days of enjoyment.  He had promised to show us his sketches.  It was not until our mother asked of my brother who he was, that all the human facts appeared.