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Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion), 1854-1909

"Marietta A Maid of Venice"

You do
not know what it is to dream of you, and wake in the grey dawn! You
cannot guess what the emptiness is, the loneliness!"
"I know it well," said Marietta. "I have been perfectly happy, talking
to you under the plane-tree, your hand in mine, and mine in yours, our
eyes in each other's eyes, our hearts one heart! And then, all at once,
there was Nella, standing at the foot of my bed with a big dish in her
hands, laughing at me because I had been sleeping so soundly! Oh,
sometimes I could kill her for waking me!"
She drew his face to hers, with a little laugh that broke off short. For
a kiss is a grave matter.
"How much time we have wasted in all these months!" she said presently.
"Why would you never understand?"
"How could I guess that you could ever love me?" Zorzi asked.
"I guessed that you loved me," objected Marietta. "At least," she added,
correcting herself, "I was quite sure of it for a little while. Then I
did not believe it all. If I had believed it quite, they should never
have betrothed me to Jacopo Contarini!"
The name recalled all realities to Zorzi, though she spoke it very
carelessly, almost with scorn. Zorzi sighed and looked up at last, and
stared at the wall opposite.
"What is it?" asked Marietta quickly.


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