For a time neither spoke: the gondola rapidly passed onwards, but, immersed in thought, Matilda and Verezzi heeded not its rapidity.
They had arrived at St. Mark's Place, and the gondolier's voice, as he announced it, was the first interruption of the silence.
They started.—Verezzi now, for the first time, aroused from his revery of horror, saw that the scene before him was real; and that the oaths of fidelity which he had so often and so fervently sworn to Julia were broken.
The extreme of horror seized his brain—a frigorific torpidity of despair chilled every sense, and his eyes, fixedly, gazed on vacancy.
"Oh! return—instantly return!" impatiently replied Matilda to the question of the gondolier.
The gondolier, surprised, obeyed her, and they returned.
The spacious canal was crowded with gondolas; merriment and splendour reigned around, enchanting harmony stole over the scene; but, listless of the music, heeding not the splendour, Matilda sat lost in a maze of thought.
Fiercest vengeance revelled through her bosom, and, in her own mind, she resolved a horrible purpose.
Meanwhile, the hour was late, the moon had gained the zenith, and poured her beams vertically on the un-
