wits would not be subdued. Nevil pointed to the palaces. 'Pride,' said
she. He argued that the original Venetians were not responsible for
their offspring. 'You say it?' she cried, 'you, of an old race? Oh, no;
you do not feel it!' and the trembling fervour of her voice convinced him
that he did not, could not.

Renee said: 'I know my ancestors are bound up in me, by my sentiments to
them; and so do you, M. Nevil. We shame them if we fail in courage and
honour. Is it not so? If we break a single pledged word we cast shame
on them. Why, that makes us what we are; that is our distinction: we
dare not be weak if we would. And therefore when Venice is reproached
with avarice and luxury, I choose to say--what do we hear of the children
of misers? and I say I am certain that those old cold Huguenot
stonecutters were proud and grasping. I am sure they were, and they
shall share the blame.'

Nevil plunged into his volume.

He called on Roland for an opinion.

'Friend,' said Roland, 'opinions may differ: mine is, considering the
defences of the windows, that the only way into these houses or out of
them bodily was the doorway.'

Roland complimented his sister and friend on the prosecution of their
studies: he could not understand a word of the subject, and yawning, he
begged permission to be allowed to land and join the gondola at a distant
quarter. The gallant officer was in haste to go.

Renee stared at her brother. He saw nothing; he said a word to the