hield and shaft,
Drink we of Night's fast-ebbing cup
One last delicious draught.

The shadowy wine of Night is sweet,
With subtle slumbrous fumes
Crushed by the Hours' melodious feet
From bloodless elder-blooms...

The days at Bellocchio passed in a series of festivities. The mornings
were spent in drinking chocolate, strolling in the gardens and visiting
the fish-ponds, meanders and other wonders of the villa; thence the
greater number of guests were soon drawn to the card-tables, from which
they rose only to dine; and after an elaborate dinner prepared by a
French cook the whole company set out to explore the country or to
exchange visits with the hosts of the adjoining villas. Each evening
brought some fresh diversion: a comedy or an operetta in the miniature
theatre, an al fresco banquet on the terrace or a ball attended by the
principal families of the neighbourhood. Odo soon contrived to reassure
the Marquess as to his designs upon Miranda, and when Coeur-Volant was
not at cards the two young men spent much of their time together. The
Marquess was never tired of extolling the taste and ingenuity with which
the Venetians planned and carried out their recreations. "Nature
herself," said he, "seems the accomplice of their merry-making, and in
no other surroundings could man's natural craving for diversion find so
graceful and poetic an expression."

The scene on which they looked out seemed to confirm his words. It was
the last evening of their stay at Bellocchio, and the Procuratessa had
planned a musical festival on the river. Festoons of coloured lanterns
wound from the portico to the water; and opposite the landing lay the
Procuratore's Bucentaur, a great barge hung with crimson velvet. In the
prow were stationed the comedians, in airy mythological dress, and as
the guests stepped on board they were received by Miranda, a rosy Venus
who, escorted by Mars and Adonis, recited an ode composed by Cantapresto
in the Procuratessa's honour. A banquet was spread in the deck-house,
which was hung with silk arras and Venetian mirrors, and, while the
guests feasted, dozens of little boats hung with lights and filled with
musicians flitted about the Bucentaur like a swarm of musical
fireflies...

The next day Odo accompanied the Procuratessa to Venice. Had he been a
traveller from beyond the Alps he could hardly have been more unprepared
for the spectacle that awaited him. In aspect and customs