Venetia eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 593 pages of information about Venetia.

Venetia eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 593 pages of information about Venetia.

There was then much meaning in that little monosyllable with which Venetia concluded her reply to her mother.  She had no hope ‘now.’  Lady Annabel, however, ascribed it to a very different meaning; she only believed that her daughter was of opinion that nothing would induce her now to listen to the overtures of her father.  Prepared for any sacrifice of self, Lady Annabel replied, ’But there is hope, Venetia; when your life is in question, there is nothing that should not be done.’

‘Nothing can be done,’ said Venetia, who, of course, could not dream of what was passing in her mother’s mind.

Lady Annabel rose from her seat and walked to the window; apparently her eye watched only the passing gondolas, but indeed she saw them not; she saw only her child stretched perhaps on the couch of death.

‘We quitted, perhaps, Rovigo too hastily,’ said Lady Annabel, in a choking voice, and with a face of scarlet.  It was a terrible struggle, but the words were uttered.

‘No, mother,’ said Venetia, to Lady Annabel’s inexpressible surprise, ‘we did right to go.’

’Even my child, even Venetia, with all her devotion to him, feels the absolute necessity of my conduct,’ thought Lady Annabel.  Her pride returned; she felt the impossibility of making an overture to Herbert; she looked upon their daughter as the last victim of his fatal career.

CHAPTER IX.

How beautiful is night in Venice!  Then music and the moon reign supreme; the glittering sky reflected in the waters, and every gondola gliding with sweet sounds!  Around on every side are palaces and temples, rising from the waves which they shadow with their solemn forms, their costly fronts rich with the spoils of kingdoms, and softened with the magic of the midnight beam.  The whole city too is poured forth for festival.  The people lounge on the quays and cluster on the bridges; the light barks skim along in crowds, just touching the surface of the water, while their bright prows of polished iron gleam in the moonshine, and glitter in the rippling wave.  Not a sound that is not graceful:  the tinkle of guitars, the sighs of serenaders, and the responsive chorus of gondoliers.  Now and then a laugh, light, joyous, and yet musical, bursts forth from some illuminated coffee-house, before which a buffo disports, a tumbler stands on his head, or a juggler mystifies; and all for a sequin!

The Place of St. Marc, at the period of our story, still presented the most brilliant spectacle of the kind in Europe.  Not a spot was more distinguished for elegance, luxury, and enjoyment.  It was indeed the inner shrine of the temple of pleasure, and very strange and amusing would be the annals of its picturesque arcades.  We must not, however, step behind their blue awnings, but content ourselves with the exterior scene; and certainly the Place of St. Marc, with the variegated splendour of its Christian mosque, the ornate

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Venetia from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.