At intervals I stole a look at her face, and could see that she was very near crying.  I felt sorry, for she was a charming girl.  In her hair, dressed in the fashion of wealthy countrywomen, she had more than one hundred sequins’ worth of gold pins and arrows which fastened the plaits of her long locks as dark as ebony.  Heavy gold ear-rings, and a long chain, which was wound twenty times round her snowy neck, made a fine contrast to her complexion, on which the lilies and the roses were admirably blended.  It was the first time that I had seen a country beauty in such splendid apparel.  Six years before, Lucie at Pasean had captivated me, but in a different manner.

Christine did not utter a single word, she was in despair, for her eyes were truly of the greatest beauty, and I was cruel enough to attack them.  She evidently hated me, and her anger alone kept back her tears.  Yet I would not undeceive her, for I wanted her to bring matters to a climax.

When the gondola had entered the long canal of Marghera, I asked the clergyman whether he had a carriage to go to Treviso, through which place he had to pass to reach P——.

“I intended to walk,” said the worthy man, “for my parish is poor and I am the same, but I will try to obtain a place for Christine in some carriage travelling that way.”

“You would confer a real kindness on me if you would both accept a seat in my chaise; it holds four persons, and there is plenty of room.”

“It is a good fortune which we were far from expecting”

“Not at all, uncle; I will not go with this gentleman.”

“Why not, my dear niece?”

“Because I will not.”

“Such is the way,” I remarked, without looking at her, “that sincerity is generally rewarded.”

“Sincerity, sir! nothing of the sort,” she exclaimed, angrily, “it is sheer wickedness.  There can be no true black eyes now for you in the world, but, as you like them, I am very glad of it.”

“You are mistaken, lovely Christine, for I have the means of ascertaining the truth.”

“What means?”

“Only to wash the eyes with a little lukewarm rose-water; or if the lady cries, the artificial colour is certain to be washed off.”

At those words, the scene changed as if by the wand of a conjuror.  The face of the charming girl, which had expressed nothing but indignation, spite and disdain, took an air of contentment and of placidity delightful to witness.  She smiled at her uncle who was much pleased with the change in her countenance, for the offer of the carriage had gone to his heart.

“Now you had better cry a little, my dear niece, and ‘il signore’ will render full justice to your eyes.”

Christine cried in reality, but it was immoderate laughter that made her tears flow.

That species of natural originality pleased me greatly, and as we were going up the steps at the landing-place, I offered her my full apologies; she accepted the carriage.  I ordered breakfast, and told a ‘vetturino’ to get a very handsome chaise ready while we had our meal, but the curate said that he must first of all go and say his mass.