been used, and
relating to him in detail the exploits of which they had been the
instruments. Thus she revived before the eyes of Franz the whole history
of Venice. After having visited the four halls consecrated to this
exhibition, she led him into a last one, larger than all the others, and
lighted like them, but containing wood for shipbuilding, the debris of
vessels of different forms and sizes, and fragments of the last
Bucentaur. She told her companion the properties of these woods, the use
of the ships, the time at which they had been built and the expeditions
in which they had taken part: then pointing to the balcony of the
Bucentaur, 'There,' said she, in a sad voice, 'are the remains of a past
royalty. That was the last ship which bore a doge of Venice to wed the
sea. Now Venice is a slave, and slaves never marry. O servitude!
servitude!'

"As upon the previous evening, she went away after having pronounced
these words, but this time taking the count with her, as he could not,
without danger, remain in the Arsenal. Arrived in the square, they
agreed on a new rendezvous for the morrow and parted.

"The next night and many succeeding nights she took Franz to the
principal monuments of the city, introducing him everywhere with
incomprehensible facility, explaining to him with admirable lucidity
everything presented to their view, displaying to him marvelous
treasures of intelligence and sensibility. He did not know which to
admire most, the mind that had investigated so deeply or the heart that
displayed itself in such beautiful bursts of feeling. What had at first
been with him only a fancy, soon changed to a real and profound
sentiment. Curiosity had caused him to form a connection with the Mask,
and astonishment had led him to continue it. But at length the habit
which he had formed of seeing her every night became to him a veritable
necessity. Although the words of the unknown were always grave and often
sad, Franz found in them an indefinable charm which attached him to her
more and more, and he could not have fallen asleep at the break of day
if he had not at night heard her sighs and seen her tears. He had such a
sincere and profound respect for the grandeur and sufferings of which he
suspected her that he had not dared beg her to take off her mask or to
tell him her name. As she had not asked his, he would have blushed to
show himself more curious and less discreet than she; and he was
resolved to hope