erintending and trying not to criticize the ingenious efforts
to produce a make-believe of comfort on board for them, word was brought
down to the boat by the count's valet that the Marquis de Rouaillout
had arrived. Renee turned her face to her brother superciliously. Roland
shrugged. 'Note this, my sister,' he said; 'an anticipation of dates in
paying visits precludes the ripeness of the sentiment of welcome. It is,
however, true that the marquis has less time to spare than others.'

'We have started; we are on the open sea. How can we put back?' said
Renee.

'You hear, Francois; we are on the open sea,' Roland addressed the
valet.

'Monsieur has cut loose his communications with land,' Francois
responded, and bowed from the landing.

Nevil hastened to make this a true report; but they had to wait for tide
as well as breeze, and pilot through intricate mud-channels before they
could see the outside of the Lido, and meanwhile the sun lay like a
golden altarplatter on mud-banks made bare by the ebb, and curled in
drowsy yellow links along the currents. All they could do was to push
off and hang loose, bumping to right and left in the midst of volleys
and countervolleys of fishy Venetian, Chioggian, and Dalmatian, quite as
strong as anything ever heard down the Canalaggio. The representatives
of these dialects trotted the decks and hung their bodies half over the
sides of the vessels to deliver fire, flashed eyes and snapped fingers,
not a whit less fierce than hostile crews in the old wars hurling an
interchange of stink-pots, and then resumed the trot, apparently in
search of fresh ammunition. An Austrian sentinel looked on passively,
and a police inspector peeringly. They were used to it. Happily, the
combustible import of the language was unknown to the ladies, and
Nevil's attempts to keep his crew quiet, contrasting with Roland's
phlegm, which a Frenchman can assume so philosophically when his tongue
is tied, amused them. During the clamour, Renee saw her father beckoning
from the riva. She signified that she was no longer in command of
circumstances; the vessel was off. But the count stamped his foot,
and nodded imperatively. Thereupon Roland repeated the eloquent
demonstrations of Renee, and the count lost patience, and Roland
shouted, 'For the love of heaven, don't join this babel; we're nearly
bursting.' The rage of the babel was allayed by degrees, though not
appeased, for the boat was behaving wantonly, as