Three Weeks

It was a beautiful apartment that Dmitry had found for them on the Grand Canal in Venice, in an old palace looking southwest. A convenient door in a side canal cloaked the exit and entry of its inhabitants from curious eyes--had there been any to indulge in curiosity; but in Venice there is a good deal of the feeling of live and let live, and the dolce far niente of the life is not conducive to an over-anxious interest in the doings of one's neighbours.

Money and intelligence can achieve a number of things in a short space of time, and Dmitry had had both at his command, so everything, including a chef from Paris and a retinue of Italian servants, was ready when on the Tuesday evening Paul arrived at the station.

What a wonderland it seemed to him, Venice! A wonderland where was awaiting him his heart's delight--more passionately desired than ever after three days of total abstinence.

As after the Friday afternoon he had spent more or less in hiding in the terrace-room, his lady had judged it wiser for him not to come at all to Lucerne, and on the Saturday had met him at a quiet part of the shore of the lake, beyond the landing-steps of the funiculaire, and for a few short hours they had cruised about on the blue waters--but her sweetest tenderness and ready wit had not been able entirely to eliminate the feeling of unrest which troubled them. And then there were the nights, the miserable evenings and nights of separation. On the Sunday she had departed to Venice, and after she had gone, Paul had returned for one day to Lucerne, leaving again on the Monday, apparently as unacquainted with Madame Zalenska as he had been the first night of his arrival.

He had not seen her since Saturday. Three whole days of anguishing longing. And now in half an hour at least she would be in his arms. The journey through the beautiful scenery from Lucerne had been got through at night--all day from Milan a feverish excitement had dominated him, and prevented his taking any interest in outward surroundings. A magnetic attraction seemed drawing him on--on--to the centre of light and joy--his lady's presence.

Dmitry and an Italian servant awaited his arrival; not an instant's delay for luggage called a halt. Tompson and the Italian were left for that, and Paul departed with his trusty guide.

It was about seven o'clock, the opalescent lights were beginning to show in the sky, and their reflection in the water, as he stooped his tall head to enter the covered gondola. It was all too beautiful and wonderful to take in at once, and then he only wanted wings the sooner to arrive, not eyes to see the passing objects. Afterwards the strange soft cry of the gondoliers and the sights appealed to him; but on this first evening every throb of his being was centred upon the one moment when he should hold his beloved one to his heart.