Chapter 27 - Page 2

same general character to all the superior
dwellings of that remarkable town. The house to which the thread of the
narrative now leads us, had its water-gate, its vestibule, its massive
marble stairs, its inner court, its magnificent suites of rooms above,
its pictures, its lustres, and its floors of precious stones embedded in
composition, like all those which we have already found it necessary to
describe.

The hour was ten, according to our own manner of computing time. A small
but lovely family picture presented itself, deep within the walls of the
patrician abode to which we have alluded. There was a father, a
gentleman who had scarcely attained the middle age, with an eye in which
spirit, intelligence, philanthropy, and, at that moment, paternal
fondness were equally glowing. He tossed in his arms, with paternal
pride, a laughing urchin of some three or four years, who rioted in the
amusement which brought him, and the author of his being, for a time
seemingly on a level. A fair Venetian dame, with golden locks and
glowing cheeks, such as Titian loved to paint her sex, reclined on a
couch nigh by, following the movements of both, with the joint feelings
of mother and wife, and laughing in pure sympathy with the noisy
merriment of her young hope. A girl, who was the youthful image of
herself, with tresses that fell to her waist, romped with a crowing
infant, whose age was so tender as scarcely to admit the uncertain
evidence of its intelligence. Such was the scene as the clock of the
piazza told the hour. Struck with the sound, the father set down the boy
and consulted his watch.

"Dost thou use thy gondola to-night, love?" he demanded.

"With thee, Paolo?"

"Not with me, dearest; I have affairs which will employ me until
twelve."

"Nay, thou art given to cast me off, when thy caprices are wayward."

"Say not so. I have named to-night for an interview with my agent, and I
know thy maternal heart too well, to doubt thy being willing to spare me
for that time, while I look to the interests of these dear ones."

The Donna Giulietta rang for her mantle and attendants. The crowing
infant and the noisy boy were dismissed to their beds, while the lady
and the eldest child descended to the gondola. Donna Giulietta was not
permitted to go unattended to her boat, for this was a family in which
the inclinations had fortunately seconded the ordinary calculations of
interest when the nuptial knot was tied. Her husband kissed her hand
fondly, as he assisted her into the gondola, and the boat had glided
some distance from the palace ere he quitted the moist stones of the
water-gate.

"Hast thou prepared the cabinet for my