breast, yet in vain, always in vain. He felt that his strength was being
exhausted. If no one came to his aid, he was lost; he raised his head to
look for help.

He saw his brother's gondola sailing as peacefully and undisturbed from
storm or accident as a swan in the moonlight, and the bitter thought
passed through his mind, that Wendelin was the lucky one, and that he had
been born to misfortune.

His arm was struggling with the tide once more, and this time more
successfully. Then Speranza opened her eyes, recognized him, and,
kissing him on the forehead, murmured: "My own love, how good you are!"

From the cliff the duchess called to him: "George, my best, my only
son!" His heart warmed within him, all his bitterness disappeared, and
the waves seemed to rock him and the burden in his arms as in a cradle.
The picture of his mother floated before his vision, that of his child,
and of his beautiful work, the great indestructible cathedral, which he
had erected to the honour of God. He reflected what sweet joy each new
spring had brought him, how he had been blessed in his work, what
exquisite delight he derived from all that was beautiful in the world.
No, no, no. Of all the men on this earth, he, the child destined to
misfortune, was the happiest. Overwhelmed by a feeling of gratitude, he
returned his wife's kiss. Saved! She was saved! He felt firm ground
beneath his feet; he lifted her on high; but, just as he laid her in the
strong arms that reached down from the cliff to receive her, a high wave
caught him and dragged him back into the deep, and the waters closed over
him.

The next morning a fisherman found his body. George's wife and mother