When the fisherman came to the surface after his fall, he was alone in the centre of the vast but tranquil sheet of water.

There might have been a glimmering of hope as he arose from the darkness of the sea to the bright beauty of that moonlit night.

But the sleeping domes were too far for human strength, and the gondolas were sweeping madly towards the town.

He turned, and swimming feebly, for hunger and previous exertion had undermined his strength, he bent his eye on the dark spot which he had constantly recognised as the boat of the Bravo.
Jacopo had not ceased to watch the interview with the utmost intentness of his faculties.

Favored by position, he could see without being distinctly visible.