"I alone was silent. I felt a sympathy with Camillo which I had never known before. The tears came into my eyes as I watched him gently conversing with my mother, turning now and then in some conversation with Luigi and my younger sister. How I watched Luigi! How I caught the words that were not addressed to me! How my heart throbbed at his sweet, humorous laugh, in which my sister joined, while his eyes wandered wonderingly toward mine, as if to ask why I was so silent. I tried to see that they fastened upon me with special interest. I could not do it. Gracious and gentle to all, I could not perceive that his manner toward me was different, and I felt a new sorrow. "So we glided over the Lagune into the canal, and beneath the balconied palaces, until we reached our own. The gondolas stopped. Luigi leaped out instantly upon the broad marble pavement, and assisted my mother to alight, then my sister. Then I placed my hand in his, and my heart stood still. It was a moment, but it was also an age. The next instant I stood free upon the step. Free--but bound forever. "We were passing up the staircase into the palace, Luigi plucked an orange bud and handed it to me. I was infinitely happy! "A few steps further, and he broke an acacia for my sister: ah! I was miserable! "We ascended into the great saloon, and a cheerful evening followed. Fascinated by these first impressions of Venice, Luigi abandoned himself to his abundant genius, and left us at midnight, mutually enchanted. Youth and sympathy had overcome all other considerations. We had planned endless days of enjoyment. He had promised to show us his sketches. It was not until our mother asked of my brother who he was, that all the human facts appeared. "'Heavens!' shouted my younger sister, Fiora, laughing with delight, 'think of the _noble_ Marchese Cicada, who simpers, _per Bacco_, that the day is warm, and, _per dieci_, that I am lovelier than ever. Viva Luigi! Viva O il pittore.' "'My daughter,' said my grave, cautious mother, 'you are very young yet--you do not understand these things. Good night, my child!' "Fiora kissed her on the brow, and darted out of the room as if she were really alive. "When she had gone, Camillo smiled in his cold, calm way, and turning to me, asked how I liked Luigi. I answered calmly, for I was of the same blood as my brother. I did not disguise how much superior I thought him to the youth I knew. I was very glad he had found such a friend, and hoped the young man would come often to see us, and be very successful in his profession. "Then I was silent. I did not say that I had never lived until that evening. I did not say how my heart was chilled, because, in leaving the room, Luigi's last glance had not been for me, but for Fiora.