He arose, and said to Mary: "I am loath to leave you, my dear young lady; but I have a few words to say privately to your father. You will excuse me more readily, as I yield my place to Geronimo."
Saying this, he walked with Mr. Van de Werve to the extremity of the boat, where both seated themselves upon a bench.
Trembling with fear, hope, and joyous anticipations, Mary and Geronimo watched the two parents, endeavoring to divine from the expression of their countenances the result of their conversation. At first both were perfectly calm; by degrees they grew more excited; the derisive smile on the lips of Mr. Van de Werve betrayed the bitterness of his feelings, as the Signor Deodati in a decided manner counted on his fingers. They were discussing the great affair—the dowry and inheritance. Their only thought was money!
Geronimo turned pale as he saw his uncle shake his head with evident dissatisfaction; and Mary trembled as she noticed the displeased expression of her father.
The private conversation lasted a long time, and still took no favorable turn; on the contrary, the two old men ceased speaking, as though displeased with each other.
Signor Deodati addressed a question to Mr. Van de Werve, to which the latter replied negatively.
Both then arose, and approaching Geronimo and Mary, sat down in silence.
Their countenances betrayed vexation and mutual displeasure.
The young man, with tearful eyes, looked inquiringly at his uncle. Mary bowed her head, but her heaving bosom gave evidence of the struggle of her heart.
For some time there was a painful silence in the gondola. Mr. Van de
Werve contemplated his daughter, who seemed overwhelmed by sorrow. Signor
Deodati was deeply moved by Geronimo's earnest gaze.
The Italian noble was the first to break silence. "Come, sir," he said, "let us make these young people happy."