"Don't you think it's too much?" To which I replied that that
would depend upon the amount of pleasure I should get for it.
Hereupon she turned away from me quickly, as she had done
the day before, murmuring in a tone different from any she had
used hitherto: "Oh, pleasure, pleasure--there's no pleasure
in this house!"

After this, for a long time, I never saw her, and I wondered that
the common chances of the day should not have helped us to meet.
It could only be evident that she was immensely on her guard
against them; and in addition to this the house was so big that
for each other we were lost in it. I used to look out for her
hopefully as I crossed the sala in my comings and goings,
but I was not rewarded with a glimpse of the tail of her dress.
It was as if she never peeped out of her aunt's apartment.
I used to wonder what she did there week after week and year
after year. I had never encountered such a violent parti pris
of seclusion; it was more than keeping quiet--it was like hunted
creatures feigning death. The two ladies appeared to have
no visitors whatever and no sort of contact with the world.
I judged at least that people could not have come to the house
and that Miss Tita could not have gone out without my having
some observation of it. I did what I disliked myself for doing
(reflecting that it was only once in a way): I questioned
my servant about their habits and let him divine that I
should be interested in any information he could pick up.
But he picked up amazingly little for a knowing Venetian:
it must be added that where there is a perpetual fast there
are very few crumbs on the floor. His cleverness in other ways
was sufficient, if it was not quite all that I had attributed