I was kept waiting a long time—longer than I liked; for, as may be supposed, I was most anxious to be well away from Venice before the rest of the world was up and about; but at length there appeared, round the corner of a long white wall which skirted the beach, a little lady, thickly veiled, who, on catching sight of me, whisked round, and incontinently vanished. This was so evidently the fair Bianca that I followed her without hesitation, and almost ran into her arms as I swung round the angle of the wall behind which she had retreated. She gave a great start, stared at me, for an instant, like a startled fawn, and then took to her heels and fled. It was rather ridiculous; but there was nothing for me to do but to give chase. My legs are long, and I had soon headed her round.
“I presume that I have the honour of addressing the Signorina Marinelli?” I panted, in French, as I faced her, hat in hand.
She answered me by a piercing shriek, which left no room for doubt as to her identity.
“For the love of Heaven, don’t do that!” I entreated, in an agony. “You will alarm the whole neighbourhood and ruin us both. Believe me, I am only here as your friend, and very much against my own wishes. I have come on the part of Count Albrecht von Rosenau, who is unable to come himself, because—”
Here she opened her mouth with so manifest an intention of raising another resounding screech that I became desperate, and seized her by the wrists in my anxiety. “Sgridi ancora una volta,” says I, in the purest lingua Toscana, “e la lascero qui—to get out of this mess as best you can—cosi sicuro che il mio nome e Jenkinsono!”
To my great relief she began to laugh. Immediately afterward, however, she sat down on the shingle and began to cry. It was too vexatious: what on earth was I to do?
“Do you understand English?” I asked, despairingly.
She shook her head, but sobbed out that she spoke French; so I proceeded to address her in that language.
“Signorina, if you do not get up and control your emotion, I will not be answerable for the consequences. We are surrounded by dangers of the most—compromising description; and every moment of delay must add to them. I know that the officers often come out here to bathe in the morning; so do many of the English people from Danielli’s. If we are discovered together there will be such a scandal as never was, and you will most assuredly not become Countess von Rosenau. Think of that, and it will brace your nerves. What you have to do is to come directly with me to the boat which is all ready to take us to Mestre. Allow me to carry your hand-bag.”
Not a bit of it! The signorina refused to stir.