Within, without, in hall and church and gallery, there is perpetual brightness and perpetual silence.

But at the evening hour, now, as in old times, a spirit takes Venice and folds it in loving arms, whispering words that are not even guessed by day.
The Ave Maria had not ceased ringing when Giovanni's gondolier came up with the Governor of Murano.

He was alone, and at his invitation Giovanni left his own craft and sat down beside the patrician, whose gondola was uncovered for coolness.

Giovanni talked earnestly in low tones, holding his sealed letter in his hand, while his own oarsman watched him closely in the advancing dusk, but was too wise to try to overhear what was said.

He knew well enough now what Giovanni wanted of the Governor, and what he obtained.
"Not to-night," the Governor said audibly, as Giovanni returned to his own gondola.