I sat down upon one of the Jewish tombstones on the Lido, and remained there a long while; I purposely compelled her to wait for me. Then, of a sudden, thinking that she might be suffering with thirst, I ran, stricken with remorse, to fetch the drink for which she had asked me, and carried it to her with deep solicitude. And yet I hoped that she would reprimand me; I would have liked to be dismissed from my employment, for it had become intolerable to me. She received me with no trace of anger; indeed she thanked me sweetly as she took the glass I handed her. Thereupon I saw that her hand was bleeding, it had been cut by the broken glass. I could not restrain my tears. I saw that hers were flowing too; but she did not speak to me, and I dared not break that silence, fraught with loving reproaches and timid passion.

I determined to stamp out my insane love and to leave Venice. I tried to persuade myself that the signora had never returned it, and that I had flattered myself with an impertinent hope; but every moment her glance, her tone of voice, her gesture, even her sadness, which seemed to increase and decrease with mine, all combined to revive my insane confidence and to lead me to dangerous dreams.

Fate seemed determined to deprive us of what little strength we still retained. Mandola did not return. I was a very indifferent oarsman, despite my zeal and strength; I was not familiar with the lagoons, I had always been so absorbed by my own thoughts as I went in and out among them! One evening I went astray in the salt marshes that stretch from the St. George canal to the Marana canal. The rising tide covered those vast plains of sand and seaweed; but it began to fall again before I succeeded in rowing back into clear water; I could see the tops of the aquatic plants moving in the breeze amid the foam. I pulled hard, but in vain. The ebb tide laid bare a vast expanse of marsh, and the gondola stranded gently on a bed of seaweed and shells. Night had spread its veil over the sky and the waters, the sea-birds lighted all around us, by thousands, filling the air with their plaintive cries. I called for a long time, but my voice was lost in space; no fishing vessel chanced to be at anchor near the marsh, no craft of any sort approached us. We must needs resign ourselves to the necessity of awaiting some chance succor or the next morning's tide. This last alternative was exceedingly disquieting; I dreaded the cold night air for my mistress's sake, and above all, the unhealthy vapors that rise from the marshes at daybreak; I tried in vain to pull the gondola to a pool of water. Aside from the fact that we should simply have gained a very few feet, it would have taken more than six men to raise the boat from the bed she had made for herself. Thereupon I determined to wade through the swamp, up to my waist in mud, until I reached the channel, and to swim across in quest of help. It was an insane undertaking; for I did not know the lay of the land, and where the fishermen adroitly walk about to gather sea-fruit, I should have been lost in bogs and quick-sands after a very few steps. When the signora saw that I was inclined to resist her prohibition, and was about to take the risk, she sprang to her feet, and, mustering strength to remain in that position for an instant, she threw her arms about me and fell back, almost pressing me to her heart. Thereupon I forgot all my anxiety, and cried frantically: "Yes! yes! let us stay here; let us never leave this spot; let us die here of joy and love, and may the Adriatic not wake to-morrow to rescue us!"

In the first moment of emotion she was very near abandoning herself to my transports; but she soon recovered the strength with which she had armed herself.

"Well, yes," she said, kissing me on the forehead; "yes, I love you, and I have loved you for a long while. It was because I loved you that I refused to marry Lanfranchi, for I could not make up my mind to place an everlasting obstacle between you and me. It was because I loved you that I endured Montalegri's love, fearing that I might succumb to my passion for you, and being determined to combat it; it was because I loved you that I sent him away, being unable to endure longer that love which I did not share; it is because I love you that I am still determined not to give way to what I feel to-day; for I propose to give you proofs of a veritable love, and I owe to your pride, so long humbled, some other recompense than vain caresses, another title than that of lover."

I did not understand that language. What other title than that of lover could I desire, what greater happiness than that of possessing such a mistress? I had had some absurd moments of pride and frenzy, but at that time I was unhappy, I did not think that she loved me.

"So long as you do love me," I cried; "so long as you tell me so as you do now, in the mystery of darkness, and every evening, out of sight of the curious and envious, give me a kiss as you did just now; so long as you are mine in secret, in God's bosom, shall I not be prouder and happier than the Doge of Venice? What more do I need than to live beside you and to know that you belong to me? Ah! let all the world remain in ignorance of it; I do not need to make others jealous in order to be happy beyond words, and the opinion of other people is not necessary to the pride and joy of my heart."

"And yet," replied Bianca, "it will humiliate you to be my servant after this, will it not?"

"I was humiliated this morning," I cried; "to-morrow I shall be proud of it."

"What!" she said, "would you not despise me if, after abandoning myself to your love, I should leave you in a state of degradation?"