“All right,” said I, “score it up, if you like.”
And, we started down the stream homeward bound.
Chapter Thirteen.
“Good-Night!”
Era già l’ora che volge ’l disio,
A’ naviganti e ’ntenerisce il cuore,
Lo di ch’ ban detto a’ dolci amici addio,
E che lo nuova peregrin d’amore
Punge, se ode Squilla di lontano,
Che paja ’l giorno pianger che si muore!
“Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I could say good-night till it be morrow!”
We were sitting side by side, Min and I, leaning over the gunwale of the “gondola” which was rapidly gliding down the river; the stream being in our favour, and our teamster on the towing path keeping his horse up to a brisk trot, that caused us to proceed at a faster rate than we could have pulled even a lighter boat.
It was a lovely summer night, calm and still, with hardly a breath of wind in the air; although, it was not at all unpleasantly close or oppressive.
A bright crescent moon was shining, touching up the trees that skirted the bank with a flood of silvery-azure light, that brought out each twig and particle of foliage in strong relief, and cast their trunks in shade; while, the surface of the water, unstirred by the slightest ripple, gleamed like a mirror of burnished steel, winding in and out, in its serpentine course, between masses of dense shadow—until it was lost to sight in the distance, behind a sudden bend, and a dark projecting clump of willows and undergrowth.