Now, as she sat eagerly alert to gain her first glimpse of Venice, she had almost forgotten that those early days had ever existed. For the moment Milbanke was a cipher; and she an ardent appreciative individual undergoing a new sensation. Such was her precise mental position when at last the scene for which she waited broke upon her view. Rising straight out of the water, Venice seemed to her ardent eyes even more the product of a visionary world than her dreams had made it. The hour was seven; and from the many spires and domes of the city warm gleams of bronze or gold shot forth at the touch of the setting sun. But the prevailing note of colour that gleamed through the mauve twilight was white--the wonderful, semi-transparent white of ancient marble back-grounded by sea and sky. The effect made upon Clodagh's mind by this white city wrapped in its evening veil was instantaneous and deep. With the exception of Florence, her knowledge of the beauties of Italy was very limited; and her first glimpse of Florence had been gained under such unpropitious circumstances that its sheltered loveliness had never appealed to her as it might otherwise have done. Now, however, her condition of mind was tranquil, if not happy; and as the train sped forward, she gazed spell-bound at this beauty at once so tangible and so unreal. To every traveller it must come with the sense of desecration, that this most magical of cities is approached by nothing less prosaic than an ordinary railway terminus. And Clodagh gave a little involuntary gasp of disappointment as the train swerved suddenly, exchanging the glamour of the outer world for a noisy station that might have belonged to any town; and as she rose from her seat, arranged her hat, and collected her books, she wondered for one moment whether the vision just hidden from her view was in reality the handiwork of man and not some mirage conjured up by her own imagination. So strong was the feeling, that she remained silent as she descended from the train, and waited while Milbanke saw to the collecting of the luggage; then, still without speaking, she followed him down the flight of steps that lead to the water. But there, as the station vanished from consideration, and the picturesque crowd of waiting gondolas met her gaze, her pleasure and excitement woke again; and with a quick gesture, she laid her hand on her husband's arm. "Oh, isn't it wonderful?" she said in a hushed voice. Milbanke turned to her uncertainly. "Yes, my dear," he said absently--"yes. But----" He sniffed critically--"but do you not detect a distinctly unhealthy odour?" Clodagh's hand dropped suddenly and expressively to her side, and she wheeled round with unnecessary haste towards the gondola into which the luggage was being piled.