"You shall not be angry with me long," said Morley--"for I have not yet seen one half there is to see, and my enthusiasm is in such a state of excitement, that I could run wild upon almost any subject connected with Venice."
"That is right--that is right," she tried; "and you must let me shew you all. Where are you going now? My gondola is at the end of the quay; but who is this coming here, as if to join you? Oh, I remember!--that dark, terrible man Lieberg; I have seen him in Naples in days of old. I never loved that man: there is something fearful about him. You are travelling with him, I hear. Beware--beware!"
Almost as she spoke, Lieberg came up, bowing low to the fair Italian, but without addressing her, and Morley could evidently see that he was not well pleased to find him in her society.
"I am sorry," he said, addressing his friend--"that I shall not be able to accompany you as I intended, for I find letters at the banker's this morning, which require an immediate answer."
Veronica's features sparkled with pleasure, which she took not the slightest pains to conceal. "You shall come with me, then," she said, "and we will row across to one of the islands, go to the Armenian convent, or to Murano--No, that is too far--we will go down the Grand Canal, and see some of the pictures. There are pictures here that make one live three hundred years ago, and speak with people that have been long in their graves."
"A pleasant employment, madam, for a dull morning," said Lieberg. "Sometimes the dead are as pleasant, and less dangerous companions than the living," answered the lady, in a marked manner. Lieberg bowed low, with bitter emphasis, replying--"Undoubtedly!"
Veronica could not but feel his meaning, and her eyes flashed for a moment angrily, but the next instant the look of irritation passed away, and giving her hand gaily to Morley Ernstein, she said--"Come! your friend is not an Englishman, and therefore we can expect no enthusiasms from him."
In a minute or two after, however, as they were walking on together, she said, in a low voice--"Has he been slandering me? Has he dared to say aught against my name?"
"No, indeed," answered Morley Ernstein; "nothing of the kind, I assure you. He told me he had seen you at Naples some years ago--"
"But his words implied something," she exclaimed, hastily--"he spoke as if he wished to give you a warning, and evidently alluded to some existing danger. What was it? Tell me, my friend, if you are frank, as I believe you. Did he, or did he not, mean to imply that I was like some of our light women of the theatres, who seek for men, such as you are, to plunder and deceive them?"