, whose straight shaft
stood out in new intensity of martial red, its golden angel gleaming
like a belated echo of the angel of the _campanile_.

"Singing for him?" Pauline repeated, yet as if she already half
understood.

"Yes, the song of exile. It was just then that he came up. I'm sure he
knew that I was thinking of him as I sang, for there was a look in his
face that I shall never forget."

"Tell me why, dear."

"Yes; I will tell you why, though it's rather a long story," May
answered, yielding to an imperative need of confession. "I can't quite
account for it all, but, up to last night, I had always felt perplexed
and disturbed about the man. He made me feel a great many things I had
never felt before. It seemed to me as if I had never before known a
single thing about--anything real,--about any human creature but myself.
And yet I suppose the very reason why this haunted me so was because I
did not understand. I felt always that there was a mystery, something I
couldn't get hold of,--and you know how I do hate a mystery."

As May forced her thoughts to take shape, she felt that it was her own
mind rather than Pauline's that was being enlightened. It was as if
Pauline must understand,--as if it were Pauline who was making things
clear to her. Yet Pauline did not say a word. She only listened, her
head inclined a bit, her eyes intent and comprehending.

"I think," May went on, "I think it must have been something really high
and fine in him that made the sordidness of it all seem so intolerable.
I suppose it is as Uncle Dan says;--these things are a matter of race. I
think Nanni must have more than his share of the family inheritance. Did
you never feel it, Pauline?"

"Yes, there was certainly something impressive about him," Pauline
admitted.

"I'm glad you thought so, too. Well, do you know, Pauline, it came to me
last night like a revelation, that I had been all wrong and morbid about
it. I remembered how he had said to me, one day when I was talking to
him about coming back to Venice: 'You mistake me and my life,
Signorina.' It did not impress me so much at the time--something drove
it out of my head;--but, suddenly, as I saw his face last night, I
seemed to understand what he meant."

They were passing near two fishing-boats moored to a cluster of piles, a
single deck-light shining clear and steady, reflected in the water like
a long yellow finger. The men had deserted the boats and were swimming
s