rofusion and variety of songs
produced from inexhaustible memories, lightly tried over, brilliantly
performed, rapidly succeeding each other. Nor were gestures
wanting--lifted arms, hands stretched to hands, flashing eyes, hair
tossed from the forehead--unconscious and appropriate action--which
showed how the spirit of the music and words alike possessed the men.
One by one the children fell asleep. Little Attilio and Teresa were
tucked up beneath my Scotch shawl at two ends of a great sofa; and not
even his father's clarion voice, in the character of Italia defying
Attila to harm 'le mie superbe citta,' could wake the little boy up.
The night wore on. It was past one. Eustace and I had promised to be
in the church of the Gesuati at six next morning. We therefore gave
the guests a gentle hint, which they as gently took. With exquisite,
because perfectly unaffected, breeding they sank for a few moments
into common conversation, then wrapped the children up, and took
their leave. It was an uncomfortable, warm, wet night of sullen
_scirocco_.

The next day, which was Sunday, Francesco called me at five. There
was no visible sunrise that cheerless damp October morning. Grey dawn
stole somehow imperceptibly between the veil of clouds and leaden
waters, as my friend and I, well sheltered by our _felze_, passed
into the Giudecca, and took our station before the church of the
Gesuati. A few women from the neighbouring streets and courts crossed
the bridges in draggled petticoats on their way to first mass. A few
men, shouldering their jackets, lounged along the Zattere, opened the
great green doors, and entered. Then suddenly Antonio cried out that
the bridal party was on its way, not as we had expected, in boats, but
on foot. We left our gondola, and fell into the ranks, after shaking
hands with Francesco, who is the elder brother of the bride. There was
nothing very noticeable in her appearance, except her large dark eyes.
Otherwise both face and figure were of a common type; and her bridal
dress of sprigged grey silk, large veil and orange blossoms, reduced
her to the level of a _bourgeoise_. It was much the same with
the bridegroom. His features, indeed, proved him a true Venetian
gondolier; for the skin was strained over the cheekbones, and the
muscles of the throat beneath the jaws stood out like cords, and the
bright blue eyes were deep-set beneath a spare brown forehead. But
he had provided a complete suit of black for