rived to pass the night,
in alternations of excitement that in general left him sufficiently
serious for the morrow's council. For more vulgar tastes there was the
minstrel, the conjuror, and the story-teller, goblets of Cyprus wine,
flasks of sherbet, and confectionery that dazzled like diamonds. And
for every one, from the grave senator to the gay gondolier, there was
an atmosphere in itself a spell, and which, after all, has more to do
with human happiness than all the accidents of fortune and all the
arts of government.

Amid this gay and brilliant multitude, one human being stood alone.
Muffled in his cloak, and leaning against a column in the portico
of St. Marc, an expression of oppressive care and affliction was
imprinted on his countenance, and ill accorded with the light and
festive scene. Had he been crossed in love, or had he lost at
play? Was it woman or gold to which his anxiety and sorrow were
attributable, for under one or other of these categories, undoubtedly,
all the miseries of man may range. Want of love, or want of money,
lies at the bottom of all our griefs.

The stranger came forward, and leaving the joyous throng, turned down
the Piazzetta, and approached the quay of the Lagune. A gondolier
saluted him, and he entered his boat.

'Whither, signor?' said the gondolier.

'To the Grand Canal,' he replied.

Over the moonlit wave the gondola swiftly skimmed! The scene was a
marvellous contrast to the one which the stranger had just quitted;
but it brought no serenity to his careworn countenance, though his eye
for a moment kindled as he looked upon the moon, that was sailing in
the cloudless heaven with a single star by her side.

They had soon entered the Grand Canal, and the gondolier looked to his
employer for instructions. 'Row opposite to the Manfrini palace,' said
the stranger, 'and rest upon your oar.'

The blinds of the great window of the palace were withdrawn.
Distinctly might be recognised a female figure bending over the
recumbent form of a girl. An hour passed away and still the gondola
was motionless, and still the silent stranger gazed on the inmates of
the palace. A servant now came forward and closed the curtain of the
chamber. The stranger sighed, and waving his hand to the gondolier,
bade him return to the Lagune.

CHAPTER X.

It is curious to recall our feelings at a moment when a great event
is impending over us, and we are utterly unconscious of its probable