provoking, for, if the Bretherton
party are not going to stay long in Venice, we may easily spend all our
time in looking for each other; which will, indeed, be a lame and
impotent conclusion. However, I have hopes of Paul's cleverness.

'And now, four o'clock! There is no help for it, my dear Eustace. I must
go and instruct Caterina how not to poison us in our dinner to-night. She
looks a dear old soul, but totally innocent of anything but Italian
barbarities in the way of cooking. And Felicie also is well-meaning but
ignorant, so, unless I wish to have Paul on my hands for a week, I must
be off. This rough picnicking life, in Venice of all places, is a curious
little experience; but I made up my mind last time we were here that we
would venture our precious selves in no more hotels. The heat, the
mosquitoes, the horrors of the food, were too much. Here we have a
garden, a kitchen, a cool sitting-room; and if I choose to feed Paul on
_tisane_ and milk-puddings, who is to prevent me?

'....Paul has just come in, with victory written on his brow. The English
consul was of no use; but, as he was strolling home, he went into St.
Mark's, and there, of course, found them! In the church were apparently
all the English people who have as yet ventured to Venice; and these, or
most of them, seemed to be following in the wake of a little party of
four persons--two ladies, a gentleman, and a lame girl walking with a
crutch. An excited English tourist condescended to inform Paul that it
was "the great English actress, Miss Bretherton," who was creating all
the commotion. Then, of course, he went up to her--he was provoked that
he could hardly see her in the dim light of St. Mark's--introduced
himself, and described our perplexities. Of course, she had written. I
expected as much. Jacques must certainly be pensioned off! Paul thought
the other three very inferior to her, though the uncle was civil, and
talked condescendingly of Venice as though it were even good enough to be
admired by a Worrall. It is arranged that the beauty is to come and see
me to-morrow if, after Caterina has operated upon us during two meals, we
are still alive. Good-night, and good-bye.'

* * * * *

'VENICE, _August_ 7.

'Well, I have seen her! It has been a blazing day. I was sitting in the
little garden which separates one half of our rooms from the other, while
Caterina was arranging the _dejeuner_ under the little acaci