extinguished the lights, and only the brilliant moon lit the scene; a
splendid moon, two nights from the full. There she shone straight down
upon them to welcome them to this City of Romance.

What loveliness met Paul's view! A loveliness in which art and nature
blended in one satisfying whole.

"Darling," he said, "this is better than the Buergenstock. Let us go out on
the water and float about, too."

It was exceedingly warm these last days of May, and that night not a
zephyr stirred a ripple. A cloak and scarf of black gauze soon hid the
lady's splendour, and they descended the staircase hand in hand to the
waiting open gondola.

It was a new experience of joy for Paul to recline there, and drift away
down the stream, amidst the music and the coloured lanterns, and the
wonderful, wonderful spell of the place.

The lady was silent for a while, and then she began to whisper passionate
words of love. She had never before been thus carried away--and he must
say them to her--as he held her hand--burning words, inflaming the
imagination and exciting the sense. It seemed as if all the other nights
of love were concentrated into this one in its perfect joy.

Who can tell of the wild exaltation which filled Paul? He was no longer
just Paul Verdayne, the ordinary young Englishman; he was a god--and this
was Olympus.

"Look, Paul!" she said at last. "Can you not see Desdemona peeping from