She was very gentle on that evening, when the sun had gone down, and
they sat in the deepening dusk, and she spoke sadly of not seeing him
for several hours. It would be so lonely, she said, and since he could
play in the daytime, why should he give up half of one precious night to
those tiresome dice? He laughed indolently, pleased that she should not
even suspect the real object of the meetings.
By and by, when it was an hour after dark, and they had eaten of
delicate things which a silent old woman brought them on small silver
platters, Contarini went down to let in his guests, and Arisa was alone,
as usual on such evenings. For a long time she lay quite still among the
cushions, in the dark, for Jacopo had taken the light with him. She
loved to be in darkness, as she always told him, and for very good
reasons, and she had so accustomed herself to it as to see almost as
well as Aristarchi himself, for whom she was waiting.
At last she heard the expected signal of his coming, the soft and
repeated splashing of an oar in the water just below the window. In a
moment she was in the inner room, to receive him in her straining arms,
longing to be half crushed to death in his. But to-night, even as he
held her in the first embrace of meeting, she felt that something had
happened, and that there was a change in him.
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