Venice, and a month that he had spent there alone--Old Steadfast being elsewhere.

It had been a warm season, warm and rich, sun-kissed and languorous, like the fruit, like the Italian women....
Leave out the women, but try to feel again the sun of Venice! He tried, but the cold of his prison fought with the sun.

Then suddenly sprang clamor without.

The uproar increased.

He rose, he heard the bolts open, the door open.