142 THE LOVERS. 



of gentle grace, with which she wore it. The converse of Marco 

 and his sweet Bianca was so low as to be nearly overpowered 

 even by the gentle murmur of the sea, as it broke upon the ad- 

 jacent shore, and the slight stirring of the surrounding foliage ; 

 while, at intervals, their voices were wholly drowned by the 

 shouts of revelry which rose from the illumined city. Since, 

 however, the purport of their discourse may be readily sur- 

 mised, it is not worth our rescue from the orange-scented air 

 to which it was committed, and the words of Marco were all 

 the less deserving record, because, though soft and gentle as 

 the waves upon that summer night, they partook somewhat 

 also of that beguiling smoothness by which many a fair and 

 fragile barque had been lured to ruin in the gulf below. Not 

 that Marco was one of your cold calculating deceivers ; but he 

 was a creature almost as dangerous : he was not recklessly 

 false-hearted, but he was infirm of purpose the sport of im- 

 pulses which had been of late vacillating between his love for 

 Bianca certainly the most ardent of his present feelings 

 and his love of family consequence, perhaps of all his cha- 

 racteristics the least unsteady. 



Heard clearly above the mingled sounds rising from the 

 city, the clock of the Annunciata struck nine. It was a signal 

 for the pair to separate Marco to join a party of gay com- 

 panions at the festival Bianca to return to the abode of her 

 father, and old vine-dresser, who had lived from his youth 

 upwards on the estate and in the service of the Marchese 



