"And so you are going to Venice?" Then, after a long pause: "Will you mind
if I tell you of an adventure of my own,--one still most vivid in my
memory? It happened near there many years ago." He picked up his shawl,
pushed our chairs close to the overhanging life-boat, and continued: "I
had begun my professional career, and had gone abroad to study the
hospital system in Europe. The revolution in Poland--the revolt of
'62--had made traveling in northern Europe uncomfortable, if not
dangerous, for foreigners, even with the most authentic of passports, and
so I had spent the summer in Italy. One morning, early in the autumn, I
bade good-by to my gondolier at the water-steps of the railroad station,
and bought a ticket for Vienna. An important letter required my immediate
presence in Berlin.

"On entering the train I found the carriage occupied by two persons: a
lady, richly dressed, but in deep mourning and heavily veiled; and a man,
dark and smooth-faced, wearing a high silk hat. Raising my cap, I placed
my umbrella and smaller traps under the seat, and hung my bundle of
traveling shawls in the rack overhead. The lady returned my salutation
gravely, lifting her veil and making room for my bundles. The dark man's
only response was a formal touching of his hat-brim with his forefinger.

"The lady interested me instantly. She was perhaps twenty-five years of
age, graceful, and of distinguished bearing. Her hair was jet-black,
brushed straight back from her temples, her complexion a rich olive, her
teeth pure white. Her lashes were long, and opened and shut with a slow,
fan-like movement, shading a pair of deep blue eyes, which shone with that
peculiar light only seen when quick tears lie hidden under half-closed
lids. Her figure was rounded and full, and her hands exquisitely modeled.
Her dress, while of the richest material, was perfectly plain, with a