Presently they passed the row of great hotels, with their balconies hanging over the water and their steps running down into it. Kitty eyed them all regretfully. She saw men and women in evening dress, and she was sure that they had dined well and were happy. Without doubt there were persons who knew her by name and had seen her act. From the Grand Canal they came out into the great Canal of San Marco, the beginning of the lagoon. Here Kitty forgot for the moment her troubles; her dream-Venice had returned. There were private yachts, Adriatic liners, all brilliant with illumination, and hundreds of gondolas, bobbing, bobbing, like captive leviathans, bunched round the gaily-lanterned barges of the serenaders. There was only one flaw to this perfect dream: the shrill whistle of the ferry-boats. They had no place here, and their presence was an affront. "How I hate them!" said La Signorina. "The American influence! Some day they will be filling up the canals and running trams over them. What is beauty and silence if there be profit in ugliness and noise?" "La Signorina--" began Kitty. "There! I have warned you twice. The third time I shall be angry." "Hilda, then. But I am afraid whenever I call you that. You do not belong to my world." "And what makes you think that?" There was a smile behind the veil. "I do not know, unless it is that you are at home everywhere, in the Campo, in the hotels, in the theater or the palace. Now, I am at home only in the theater, in places which are unreal and artificial. You are a great actress, a great singer; and yet, as O'Mally would say, you don't belong." Kitty had forgotten what she had started out to say. La Signorina laughed. "Pouf! You have been reading too many novels. To the _molo_, Pompeo." At the _molo_, the great quay of Venice, they disembarked. The whilom prima donna dropped fifty centesimi into Pompeo's palm, and he bowed to the very gunwale of the boat. "_Grazie, nobilita._" "What does he say?" asked Kitty. "He says, 'Thanks, nobility.' If I had given him a penny it would have been thanks only. For a lira he would have added _principessa_--princess. The gondolier will give you any title you desire, if you are willing enough to pay for it. We shall return on foot, Pompeo; this will be all for the night." Pompeo lifted his hat again, and pushed off. "He was very cheap," said Kitty. "Only ten cents for a ride like that!" A ripple of laughter greeted this remark. "Pompeo can read human nature; he knows that I am honest. What I gave him was a tip." "Aren't you laughing at me sometimes?" "Disabuse your mind of that fancy, _cara_. It is a long time since I gave my affections to any one, and I do give them to you." With this she caught Kitty by the arm, and the two went up the Piazzetta leisurely toward the Piazza.