CHAPTER V.
THE REGATTA.
Prince Eugene was watching the little French clock on the marble mantelpiece of his dressing-room, wondering, in his impatience, whether it ever would strike the hour of twelve, the hour at which he was to witness the departure of the Strozzis for the regatta.
Mademoiselle Victorine had delivered her mistress's message, and the heart of her lover was once more bounding with joy. His eyes flashed with a light which, except on a day of battle, had never been seen within their sad depths since the dreadful period of his parting with Laura. Forgotten was all the anguish of those three long years; forgotten all doubts, forgotten all fears. She loved him; she was true to her vows, and he would bear her away from her ravisher to the spouse that was hers before Heaven.
But how long—how unspeakably long—the hours that intervened between him and happiness! He was wishing for some interruption that would break this monotonous waiting, when the door opened, and Conrad came forward.
"My lord, I have found a commissionnaire for you; one who professes to know Venice and its golden book by heart."
"Introduce him at once: I wish to speak with him."
Conrad opened the door and signed to some one without, when the commissionnaire advanced and bowed.
"Why are you masked?" asked the prince, who remembered the warning which Laura had sent him the day previous.
"Excellenza, every Venetian of good character has a right to wear a mask during the carnival."