perished thus within their sight.

Next evening there was a reception at my banker's. The storm became a
topic of conversation; and Poggio related the death of the fishermen,
trying to enlist sympathy for the poor survivors. But nobody seemed to
understand his intention. Then I was asked to improvise. I was quickly
determined. "I know of an emotion," I exclaimed, "which awakens supreme
happiness in everybody, and I have the power of exciting it in every
heart. But this art cannot be given, it must be purchased. He who gives
most will be most deeply initiated." Money and jewels were quickly
forthcoming; and I began to sing of the proud sea and the bold mariners
and fishermen. I described what I had seen; and my art succeeded where
Poggio's words had failed. A tumult of applause arose. A young lady sank
at my feet, seized my hand, and with her beautiful, tear-filled eyes
gave me a look of intense gratitude, which agitated me in strange
fashion. Then she withdrew as if in horror at what she had done.

Poggio afterwards told me that she was the queen of beauty in Venice,
the podestà's niece, adored by everybody, but known by few, since the
podestà's house was most exclusive, and received but few guests. He
accounted me the luckiest of mortals when he heard that I had received
an invitation from the podestà, and would have a chance of improving my
acquaintance with Maria, his beautiful niece. I was received as if I had
been a beloved relative. Something in Maria's expression recalled to me
the blind beggar-girl Lara; but Maria had eyes with a singularly dark
glance of fire. I became a daily visitor at the podestà's house, and
spent many happy hours in Maria's company. Her intellect and charm of
character captivated me as much as her beauty.