of the sun in my eyes so that I could hardly make out the features, stood
feeling a little thrilled by the advent of so famous a person. In a few
moments, however, as it seemed to me, we were sitting, under the acacias,
she was helping me to cut up the melon and arrange the figs, as if we had
known one another for months, and I was experiencing one of those sudden
rushes of liking which, as you know, are a weakness of mine. She stayed
and took her meal with its. Paul, of course, was fascinated, and for once
has not set her down as a _réputation surfaite_.

'Her beauty has a curious air of the place; and now I remember that her
mother was Italian--Venetian actually, was it not? That accounts for it;
she is the Venetian type spiritualised. At the foundation of her face, as
it were, lies the face of the Burano lace-maker; only the original type
has been so refined, so chiselled and smoothed away, that, to speak
fancifully, only a beautiful ghost of it remains. That large stateliness
of her movement, too, is Italian. You may see it in any Venetian street,
and Veronese has fixed it in art.

'While we were sitting in the garden who should be announced but Edward
Wallace? I knew, of course, from you that he might be here about this
time, but in the hurry of our settling in I had quite forgotten his
existence, so that the sight of his trim person bearing down upon us was
a surprise. He and the Bretherton party, however, had been going about
together for several days, so that he and she had plenty of gossip in
common. Miss Bretherton's enthusiasm about Venice is of a very naive,
hot, outspoken kind. It seems to me that she is a very susceptible
creature. She lives her life fast, and crowds into it a greater number of
sensations than most people. All this zest and pleasure must consume a
vast amount of nervous force, but it makes her very refreshing to people
as _blasés_ as Paul and I are. My first feeling about her is very much