Camilla (smiling).--Are your sentiments of duty and gratitude so
very strong?

Rosabella.--Oh, that they are, Camilla; and so you will say yourself
hereafter. This disagreeable Flodoardo--to give me so much
vexation! I wish he had never come to Venice. I declare I do not
like him at all.

Camilla.--No--what! Not like Flodoardo?

Rosabella (casting down her eyes).--No, not at all. Not that I wish
him ill, either, for you know, Camilla, there's no reason why I
should hate this poor Flodoardo!

Camilla.--Well, we will resume this subject when I return. I have
business, and the gondola waits for me. Farewell, my child; and do
not lay aside your resolution as hastily as you took it up.

Camilla departed, and Rosabella remained melancholy and uncertain.
She built castles in the air, and destroyed them as soon as built.
She formed wishes, and condemned herself for having formed them.
She looked round her frequently in search of something, but dared
not confess to herself what it was of which she was in search.

The evening was sultry, and Rosabella was compelled to shelter
herself from the sun's overpowering heat. In the garden was a small
fountain, bordered by a bank of moss, over which the magic hands of
art and nature had formed a canopy of ivy and jessamine. Thither
she bent her steps. She arrived at the fountain, and instantly drew