The visit
explained well enough why her father had desired her to put on her best
gown and most valuable lace. She really had not the slightest idea that
anything more important was on foot.
Beroviero looked at her in silence as they sped along with the gently
rocking motion of the gondola, which is not exactly like any other
movement in the world. He had already noticed that she was paler than
usual, but the extraordinary whiteness of her skin made her pallor
becoming to her, and it was set off by the colour of her hair, as ivory
by rough gold. He wondered whether she had guessed whither he was taking
her.
"It is a long time since we were in Saint Mark's together," he said at
last.
"It must be more than a year," answered Marietta. "We pass it often, but
we hardly ever go in."
"It is early," observed Beroviero, speaking as indifferently as he
could. "When we left home it lacked an hour and a half of noon by the
dial. Shall we go into the church for a while?"
"If you like," replied Marietta mechanically.
Nothing made much difference that morning, but she knew that the high
mass would be over and that the church would be quiet and cool. It was
not at that time the cathedral of Venice, though it had always been the
church in which the doges worshipped in state.
Pages:
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140