Rare, because pride often interferes with
friendships among men, where all conditions are not equal. Noble, because
the two men were so, although only one had the name and the means of a
nobleman. But he shared these with his friend, as naturally as his friend
shared his thoughts with him. Neither spoke much of the past. My brother
had rolled a stone over the mouth of that tomb, and his friend was
occupied with the suggestions and the richness of the life around him. If
some stray leaf or blossom fell forward upon their path from the past, it
served to Luigi only as a stimulating mystery.
"'This is my memory,' he would say, touching his portfolio, which was full
of eastern sketches. 'These are the hieroglyphics Egypt has herself
written, and we can decipher them at leisure upon your languid lagunes.'
"It was not difficult for my brother to persuade Luigi to return with him
to Venice. I shall not forget the night they came, as long as I remember
anything."
The Marchesa paused a moment, dreamily.
"It was the eve of the Purification," she said, at length, pausing again.
After a little, she resumed:
"We were ignorant of the probable time of Camillo's return; and about
sunset my mother, my younger sister Fiora, and I, were rowing along the
Guidecca, when I saw a gondola approaching, containing two persons only
beside the rowers, followed by another with trunks and servants.
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