Paul learnt the history of the wonderful women of _cinquecento_ Venice, it
seemed as if something of their exotic voluptuous spirit now lived in her.

This was a new queen to worship--and die for, if necessary. He dimly felt,
even in these first moments, that here he would drink still deeper of the
mysteries of life and passionate love.

_"Beztzenny-moi,"_ she said, "my priceless one. At last I have you again
to make me _live_. Ah! I must know it is really you, my Paul!"

They were sitting on the tiger by now, and she undulated round and all
over him, feeling his coat, and his face, and his hair, as a blind person
might, till at last it seemed as if she were twined about him like a
serpent. And every now and then a narrow shaft of the glorious dying
sunlight would strike the great emerald on her forehead, and give forth
sparks of vivid green which appeared reflected again in her eyes. Paul's
head swam, he felt intoxicated with bliss.

"This Venice is for you and me, my Paul," she said. "The air is full of
love and dreams; we have left the slender moon behind us in Switzerland;
here she is nearing her full, and the summer is upon us with all her
richness and completeness--the spring of our love has passed."
Her voice fell into its rhythmical cadence, as if she were whispering a
prophecy inspired by some presence beyond.

"We will drink deep of the cup of delight, my, lover, and bathe in the
wine of the gods. We shall feast on the tongues of nightingales, and rest
on couches of flowers. And thou shalt cede me thy soul, beloved, and I
will give thee mine--"