res into which sent out fierce rays of light and heat. He walked
about, seemingly at his ease; looking at the apprentices experimenting;
chatting to the workmen. And at last he asked one of these to make for
him a little vase in opalescent glass, that he could take to his
daughter in England; and could he put the letter N on it somewhere? It
was at least some occupation, watching the quick and dexterous handling
under which the little vase grew into form, and had its decoration
cleverly pinched out, and its tiny bits of color added. The letter N was
not very successful; but then Natalie would know that her father had
been thinking of her at Venice.

This excursion at all events tided over the forenoon; and when the two
companions returned to the wet and disconsolate city, Calabressa was
easily persuaded to join his friend in some sort of mid-day meal. After
that, the long-haired albino-looking person took his leave, having
arranged how Lind was to keep the assignation for that evening.

The afternoon cleared up somewhat; but Ferdinand Lind seemed to find it
dull enough. He went out for an aimless stroll through some of the
narrow back streets, slowly making his way among the crowd that poured
along these various ways. Then he returned to his hotel, and wrote some
letters. Then he dined early; but still the time did not seem to pass.
He resolved on getting through an hour or so at the theatre.

A gondola swiftly took him away through the labyrinth of small and
gloomy canals, until at length the wan orange glare shining out into the
night showed him that he was drawing near one of the entrances to the
Fenice. If he had been less preoccupied--less eager to think of nothing
but how to get the slow hours over--he might have noticed the
strangeness of the scene before him: the successive gondolas stealing
silently up through the gloom to the palely lit stone steps; the black
coffins appearing to open; and then figures in white and scarlet
opera-cloaks getting out into the dim light, to ascend into the
brilliant glare of the theatre staircase. He, too, followed, and got
into the place assigned to him. But this spectacular display failed to
interest him. He turned to the bill, to remind him what he had to see.
The blaze of color on the stage--the various combinations of
movement--the resounding music--all seemed part of a dream; and it
annoyed him somehow. He rose and left.

The intervening time he spent chiefly in a _cafe_