But we
are living still, my Paul--waste we no more time, in dreams."
They made haste, and were soon in the gondola on their way to the Piazza.
"Paul," she said, with a wave of her hand which included all the beauty
around, "I am so glad you only see Venice now, when your eyes can take it
in, sweetheart. At first it would have said almost nothing to you," and
she smiled playfully. "In fact, my Paul would have spent most of his time
in wondering how he could get exercise enough, there being so few places
to walk in! He would have bought a nigger boy with a dish for his father,
and some Venetian mirrors for his aunts, and perhaps--yes--a piece of Mr.
Jesurum's lace for his mother, and some blown glass for his friends. He
would have walked through St. Mark's, and thought it was a tumble-down
place, with uneven pavements, and he would have noticed there were a
'jolly lot of pigeons' in the square! Then he would have been captious
with the food at his hotel, grumbled at the waiters, scolded poor
Tompson--and left for Rome!"
"Oh! darling!" said Paul, laughing too, in spite of his protest. "Surely,
surely, I never was so bad as that--and yet I expect it is probably true.
How can I ever thank you enough for giving me eyes and an understanding?"
"There--there, beloved," she said.
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