everything from her good-will and nothing from his own
importunity. She seemed to appreciate the delicacy of his conduct, and
to be pleased with it, for at each succeeding interview she showed him
more confidence and sympathy. Although not a single word of love had
been uttered between them, Franz had reason to believe that she knew his
passion and felt disposed to share it. His hopes almost sufficed for his
happiness, and when he felt a deeper desire to know her whom he already
named internally his mistress, his imagination, impressed and as if
assured by the marvels which surrounded him, painted her so perfect and
so beautiful that he almost feared the moment in which she should be
unveiled to him.

"One night, as they were wandering together under the arcades of St.
Mark's, the masked woman made Franz stop before a picture which
represented a girl kneeling before the patron saint of the basilica and
the city. 'What do you think of this woman?' said she to him, after
having given him time to examine it well.

"'It is,' he answered, 'the most wonderful beauty that one could, not
see, but imagine. The artist's inspired soul has been able to give us
its image, but the model can only exist in heaven.'

"The masked woman warmly pressed the hand of Franz. 'I,' she replied,
'know a face more beautiful than that of the glorious Saint Mark, and I
could love no other than that which is the living image of it.'

"On hearing these words Franz paled and trembled as if seized with
vertigo. He had just perceived that the face of the saint offered the
most exact resemblance to his own. He fell on his knees before the
unknown, and seizing her hand bathed it with his tears, without being
able to utter a word.

"'I know now that thou belongest to me,' she said in a voice full of
emotion, 'and that thou art worthy to know me and possess me. To-morrow,
at the ball of the palace Servilio.' Then she left him as before, but
without pronouncing the sacramental words, so to speak, which had
terminated the conversation of each previous night.

"Intoxicated with joy, Franz wandered through the whole city, without
being able to stop anywhere. He admired the sky, smiled upon the
lagoons, saluted the houses and spoke to the wind. All who met him took
him for a madman, and singled him out by their glances. He perceived it,
but only laughed at the madness of those who found amusement in his.
When his friends asked him what he had been doing fo