It was not in her power
to recall her dreams; but they had left a vague and yet serene
impression. There seemed a lightness in her heart, that long had been
unusual with her, and she greeted her mother with a smile, faint
indeed, yet natural.
Perhaps this beneficial change, slight but still delightful, might be
attributed to the softness and the splendour of the morn. Before the
approach of winter, it seemed that the sun was resolved to remind the
Venetians that they were his children; and that, although his rays
might be soon clouded for a season, they were not to believe that
their parent had deserted them. The sea was like glass, a golden haze
suffused the horizon, and a breeze, not strong enough to disturb the
waters, was wafted at intervals from the gardens of the Brenta, fitful
and sweet.
Venetia had yielded to the suggestion of her mother, and had agreed
for the first time to leave the palace. They stepped into their
gondola, and were wafted to an island in the Lagune where there was
a convent, and, what in Venice was more rare and more delightful, a
garden. Its scanty shrubberies sparkled in the sun; and a cypress
flanked by a pine-tree offered to the eye unused to trees a novel and
picturesque group. Beneath its shade they rested, watching on one side
the distant city, and on the other the still and gleaming waters of
the Adriatic.
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