"What is it? Where is Alberto? What has happened?" she cried. "You have
told me nothing."

"Well, then, I will explain," I answered, impatiently. And I explained
accordingly.

But, dear me, what a fuss she did make over it all! One would have
supposed, to hear her, that I had planned this unfortunate complication
for my own pleasure, and that I ought to have been playing the part of a
suppliant instead of that of a sorely tried benefactor. First she was
so kind as to set me down as an imposter, and was only convinced of my
honesty when I showed her a letter in the beloved Alberto's handwriting.
Then she declared that she could not possibly go off with a total
stranger. Then she discovered that, upon further consideration, she
could not abandon poor dear papa in his old age. And so forth, and so
forth, with a running accompaniment of tears and sobs. Of course she
consented at last to enter the boat; but I was so exasperated by her
silly behaviour that I would not speak to her, and had really scarcely
noticed whether she was pretty or plain till we were more than half-way
to Mestre. But when we had hoisted our sail, and were running before a
fine, fresh breeze toward the land, and our four men had shipped their
oars and were chattering and laughing under their breath in the bows,
and the first perils of our enterprise seemed to have been safely
surmounted, my equanimity began to return to me, and I stole a glance at
the partner of my flight, who had lifted her veil, and showed a pretty,
round, childish face, with a clear, brown complexion, and a pair of
the most splendid dark eyes it has ever been my good fortune to
behold. There were no tears in them now, but a certain half-frightened,
half-mischievous light instead, as if she rather enjoyed the adventure,