“A man who has been in the desert six months should be modest when he returns to civilization,” he answered. “Perhaps it is because I have been in the desert,” he added, looking around, “that it seems to me one hardly needs better entertainment than this scene.” “It is very bright and interesting for a while,” said Mr. Meredith; “but fancy coming here every evening of your life, as these Venetians do! One would think that it would grow monotonous in time.” “To a stranger it would certainly grow monotonous in a short time,” said Kyrle; “but those who have all their interests, social or otherwise, here, and who have a strong attachment to this which has been the frame of their life from its beginning, and the frame of the life of Venice through all her history, are not likely to grow weary of it.” “I think,” said Aimée, “that even a stranger might require some time to grow weary of it--such a picture in such a frame!” “That would depend entirely upon the stranger,” said Lennox, regarding her with a smile. And indeed she was herself a picture worth regarding as she sat in the light of the brilliant lamps; her fair, delicate face shadowed by a large hat covered with curling plumes, and her liquid eyes full of pleasure as she looked over the gay life of the Piazza, or turned to the solemn front of the great cathedral lifting its domes and minarets against a sky of hyacinth blue. “It is a very pretty scene,” said Percy Joscelyn, superciliously, “but I think it quite possible to grow tired of it. There is so much sameness. Now, the boulevards--” “Percy is a very good American; his idea of heaven is a Paris boulevard,” said Fanny Meredith. “I am fond of the boulevards myself, but, for a change, I call this delightful.” Lennox agreed with her. He did not ask himself why it was so delightful, but he felt a sense of thorough and complete satisfaction, as he sat, joining in the light, idle conversation, commenting on the motley throng which ebbed and flowed around them, and drinking a cup of black coffee as if it were nectar. Presently Mr. Meredith suggested a return to their hotel, but this was at once negatived by his lively wife. “The moon is well up by this time,” she said. “Let us go out in a gondola. It will be charming to float about for an hour or so.” “Good Heaven!” said the husband, “have you not been floating about enough during the course of the day? It seems to me that we hardly exist out of a gondola, unless we are in a church or a picture gallery.” “Well, then, you need not come,” said she, laughing; “but I know Aimée would like to go--would you not, Aimée?” “I am always ready for a gondola,” was the smiling reply. “Percy will go. He is always ready for a gondola too,” pursued Fanny. Then she turned to Kyrle. “Will you join us?” she asked. “I shall be delighted,” he replied, trying not to make the commonplace words too eager.