London (England) -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction; Politicians -- Fiction
Presently she caught up her purse, went to her room, where she put on
her walking things without summoning Blanche, and stealing down the
stairs, so as to be unheard by Margaret, she made her way to the back
gate of the Palazzo, and so to the streets leading to the Piazza.
William had taken the gondola to the Piazzetta, so she felt herself
safe.
She entered the telegraphic office at the western end of the Piazza, and
sent a telegram to England that nearly emptied her purse of francs. When
she came out she was as pale as she had been flushed before--a little,
terror-stricken figure, passing in a miserable abstraction through the
intricate backways which took her home.
"It won't be published for ten days. There's time. It's only a question
of money," she said to herself, feverishly--"only a question of money!"
* * * * *
All the rest of the day, Kitty was at once so restless and so languid
that to amuse her was difficult. Ashe was quite grateful to his amazing
mother-in-law for the plan of the evening.
As night fell, Kitty started at every sound in the old Palazzo. Once or
twice she went half-way to the door--eagerly--with hand
out-stretched--as though she expected a letter.
"No other English post to-night, Kitty!" said Ashe, at last, raising his
head from the finely printed _Poetæ Minores_ he had just purchased at
Ongania's. "You don't mean to say you're not thankful!"
* * * * *
The evening arrived--clear and mild, but moonless. Ashe went off to dine
with his prince, in the ordinary gondola of commerce, hired at the
Traghetto; while Margaret and Kitty followed a little later in one which
had already drawn the attention of Venice, owing to the two handsome
gondoliers, habited in black from head to foot, who were attached to it.
They turned towards the Piazzetta, where they were to meet with Madame
d'Estrées' party.
Kitty, in her deep mourning, sank listlessly into the black cushions of
the gondola. Yet almost as they started, as the first strokes carried
them past the famous palace which is now the Prefecture, the spell of
Venice began to work.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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