One day she showed me her crucifix
and kissed it, and thereupon I took a little silver crucifix that always
stood by me, and kissed that, and so she knew that we were one in
religion.
One day the little maid did not appear on her balcony, and for several
days I saw nothing of her; and although I threw my flowers as usual, no
flower came to keep it company. However, after a time, she reappeared,
dressed in black, and crying often, and then I knew that the poor
child's mother was dead, and, as far as I knew, she was alone in the
world. The flowers came no more for many days, nor did she show any sign
of recognition, but kept her eyes on her work, except when she placed
her handkerchief to them. And opposite to her was the old lady's chair,
and I could see that, from time to time, she would lay down her work and
gaze at it, and then a flood of tears would come to her relief. But at
last one day she roused herself to nod to me, and then her flower came,
day by day, and my flower went forth to join it, and with varying
fortunes the two flowers sailed away as of yore.
But the darkest day of all to me was when a good-looking young
gondolier, standing right end uppermost in his gondola (for I could see
_him_ in the flesh), worked his craft alongside the house, and stood
talking to her as she sat on the balcony.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25