_Culch._ (_with impatience_). Miss TROTTER! You! What an egotist you are, my dear fellow! I was referring to myself and Miss PRENDERGAST. And you can't deny that, both at Nuremberg and Constance, she-- _Podb._ (_with careless optimism_). Oh, _she_'ll come round all right, never fear. I only wish I was half as safe with Miss TROTTER! _Culch._ (_mollified_). Don't be too downhearted, my dear PODBURY. I happen to know that she likes you--she told me as much last night. Did Miss PRENDERGAST--er--say anything to that effect about _me_? _Podb._ Well,--not exactly, old chap--not to me, at least. But I say, Miss TROTTER didn't tell you _that_? Not _really_? Hooray! Then it's all right--she may have me, after all! _Culch._ (_chillingly_). I should advise you not to be over confident. (_A silence follows, which endures until they reach the landing-steps at Torcello._) They _are_ here, you see--those are evidently their gondolas, I recognise those two cloaks. Now the best thing _we_ can do is to separate. _Podb._ (_springing out_). Right you are! (_To himself._) I'll draw the church first, and see if she's there. (_Approaches the door of Santa Maria: a Voice within, apparently reading aloud: "Six balls, or rather almonds, of purple marble veined with white are set around the edge of the pulpit, and form its only decoration"_) HYPATIA, by Jove! Narrow shave that! [_He goes round to back._ _Culch._ (_comes up to the door_). I know I shall find her here. Lucky I know that Torcello chapter in "The Stones" very nearly by heart! (_Reaches threshold. A Voice within. "Well, I guess I'm going to climb up and sit in that old amphitheatre there, and see how it feels!"_) Good heavens,--_MAUD_! and I was as nearly as possible--I think I'll go up to the top of the Campanile and see if I can't discover where HYPATIA is. [_He ascends the tower._ _In the Belfry._ _Podb._ (_arriving breathless, and finding CULCHARD craning eagerly forward_). Oh, so _you_ came up too? Well, can you _see_ her? _Culch._ Ssh! She's just turned the corner! (_Vexed._) She's with Miss TROTTER!... They're sitting down on the grass below! _Podb._ Together? That's a nuisance! Now we shall have to wait till they separate--sure to squabble, sooner or later. _Miss T.'s Voice_ (_which is perfectly audible above_). I guess we'll give RUSKIN a rest now, HYPATIA. I'm dying for a talk. I'm just as enchanted as I can be to hear you've dismissed Mr. PODBURY. And I expect you can guess _why_. _Podb._ (_in a whisper_). I say, CULCHARD, they're going to talk about us. Ought we to listen, eh? Better let them know we're here? _Culch._ I really don't see any necessity--however--(_Whistles feebly._) Feedy-feedy-feedle! [Illustration: "Hypatia, by Jove!"] _Podb._ What is the use of fustling like that? (_Yödels._) Lul-li-ety! _Miss P.'s V._ Well, my dear MAUD, I confess that I--