"So it is that, is it?" he said to himself. "Poor old Rico, he was in rather a tight place! Ah, well, if it is that she should prove amenable to reason, and grateful too, and the longer one waits--yes, perhaps Rico is right after all, about waiting. Vedremo!" CHAPTER X The Signora Ferrati made a pleasant travelling companion, and her two little girls were unusually quiet and well-behaved, for Italian children, who are generally allowed far more of their elders' society and privileges, especially as regards eating and sitting up until late hours, than is at all good for them. Dr. Ferrati was unable to accompany his family, but had promised to come to Venice in a fortnight's time. The journey up was uneventful, and the two parties separated at the railway station, the Signora taking a _vaporetto_ directly to the Lido, while Fru Bjork and the girls, went to a small, but comfortable, hotel on the Grand Canal. That evening Astrid and Ragna hung over the balcony of the latter's room, gazing in ecstasy at the fairyland spread before their eyes. Nearly opposite, rose the white dome of S. Maria della Salute, gleaming shadowy pale against a star-powdered sky; the dark water below, fretted with silver ripples, flowed silently by, and over its surface sped the slim dark shapes of gondolas, the gondolier swaying to the rhythm of his oar, each gondola bearing its little lamp behind the tall steel prow. Down the canal, from the Rialto, came the _barche_ full of musicians, gay with Japanese lanterns, and the high transparent emblem "S. Mareo" or the "Sirena," and surrounded by a growing flotilla of gondolas. The still air throbbed with the haunting strains of voices, mandolins and guitars. A strong, clear tenor voice, rose above the others, the notes vibrating with passion, as they rose and fell. Astrid squeezed Ragna's hand. "Oh, isn't it just too heavenly for words!" she murmured. The charm of it all, in its setting of soft, luminous Italian night, penetrated both the girls, but in different ways. To Astrid, it was a delightfully romantic impression, to be recalled with pleasure; to Ragna, the poignancy of the beauty was tinged with bitterness, and the very loveliness of it was as a two-edged sword, recalling other Italian nights and their associations. Try as she would, she could not banish the past, nor had custom yet made her callous to the memory of what had happened. The girls stood on the balcony, until the music stopped, and the boats drifted away, then they kissed one another good-night, and Astrid went to her own room.