'These are the hieroglyphics Egypt has herself
written, and we can decipher them at leisure upon your languid lagunes.'

"It was not difficult for my brother to persuade Luigi to return with him
to Venice. I shall not forget the night they came, as long as I remember
anything."

The Marchesa paused a moment, dreamily.

"It was the eve of the Purification," she said, at length, pausing again.
After a little, she resumed:

"We were ignorant of the probable time of Camillo's return; and about
sunset my mother, my younger sister Fiora, and I, were rowing along the
Guidecca, when I saw a gondola approaching, containing two persons only
beside the rowers, followed by another with trunks and servants. I have
always watched curiously new arrivals in Venice, for no other city in the
world can be entered with such peculiar emotion. I had scarcely looked at
the new comers before I recognized my brother, and was fascinated by the
appearance of his companion, who lay in a trance of delight with the
beauty of the place and the hour.

"His long hair flowed from under his slouched hat, hanging about a face
that I cannot describe; and his negligent travelling dress did not conceal
the springing grace of his figure. But to me, educated in Venice,
associated only with its silent, stately nobles; a child, early solemnized
by the society of decay and of elders whose hearts were never young, to
me the magnetic charm of the young man was his youth, and I gazed at him
with the same admiring earnestness with which he looked at the city and
the scene.

"The gondolas constantly approached. My brother lay lost in thoughts which
were visible in the shadow they cast upon his features. His head rested
upon his hand, and he looked fixedly toward the island on which the
convent stands. A light summer cloak was drawn around him, and hid his
figure entirely, except his arm and hand. His cap was drawn down over his
eyes. He was not conscious of any being in the world but Sulpizia.

"Suddenly from the convent tower the sound of the vesper bell trembled in
throbbing music over the water. It seemed to ring every soul to prayer. My
brother did not move. He still gazed intently at the island, and the tears
stole from his eyes. Luigi crossed himself. We did the same, and murmured
an Ave Maria.

"'Heavens! Camillo!' cried my mother, suddenly. He started, and was so
near that there was a mutual recognition. In a moment the gondolas were
side by side, and