His heart overflowed to her in unaccustomed endearments, so rarely did
she express any emotion, and to-day the rebound from the morning's
repression filled him with hope and gladness. All fear of winning her
aid was lifted. "_Madre mia_!" he cried, his face radiant with
happiness.

"This day is not as other days," she said, half in apology for her
weakness, as she recovered herself.

"I have a gift for thee, madre mia; let me bring it."

"I need no gift, Marco; for now hast thou everything before thee--every
honor that Venice may offer to a Venetian of the Venetians! Forget it
not, my Marco."

But he had already flown from her, with impatient, lover's footsteps.
Now that the moment had come he could not wait.

"Mother!" he cried, with shining eyes, as he placed the costly case upon
a table and drew her gently toward it.

She stood in mute astonishment before the faultless gift, this perfect
bit of Beroviero crystal,--opalesque and lucent, reflecting hidden
rainbow tints, enhanced by the golden traceries delicate and
artistic--the beautiful young face framed in those sea-gems dear to the
Venetian heart, each pearl a study of changing light.

"There is none like it in Venice!" she exclaimed; "nor hath there ever
been. Thou hast treated me like a queen, my Marco!"