The gondola moved with slow strokes,
to give her time to enjoy it, and she listened to the plash
of the oars, which grew louder and more musically liquid as we
passed into narrow canals, as if it were a revelation of Venice.
When I asked her how long it was since she had been in a boat
she answered, "Oh, I don't know; a long time--not since my aunt
began to be ill." This was not the only example she gave me
of her extreme vagueness about the previous years and the line
which marked off the period when Miss Bordereau flourished.
I was not at liberty to keep her out too long, but we
took a considerable GIRL before going to the Piazza.
I asked her no questions, keeping the conversation on purpose
away from her domestic situation and the things I wanted to know;
I poured treasures of information about Venice into her ears,
described Florence and Rome, discoursed to her on the charms
and advantages of travel. She reclined, receptive, on the deep
leather cushions, turned her eyes conscientiously to everything
I pointed out to her, and never mentioned to me till sometime
afterward that she might be supposed to know Florence better
than I, as she had lived there for years with Miss Bordereau.
At last she asked, with the shy impatience of a child, "Are we
not really going to the Piazza? That's what I want to see!"
I immediately gave the order that we should go straight;
and then we sat silent with the expectation of arrival.
As some time still passed, however, she said suddenly, of her
own movement, "I have found out what is the matter with my aunt:
she is afraid you will go!"
"What has put that into her head?"
"She has had an idea you have not been happy.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90