Literary Love-Letters and Other Stories

om the Giudecca. He tol

one with him yet

e paved passage beside the hotel garden was alive with a cosmopolitan picnic party. Lawrence lingered a

Each day it was easier to put out to the lagoons for a still dream, and return when the Adriatic breeze was winding into the heated calles. Over there,

Mare Morto, where the sea-

e dead lagoon, out yonder around the city, in the envel

nto the ruffling waters of the Giudecca canal, and edged around the deser

channel. As the narrow hull swept past, he saw a hand ga

always to the dead s

oy other forestieri

orta?" and as his gondola sli

nice; you could not go

ing?" he questioned

e answered, evasively.

. It is the lonelie

n between the sea-weed banks. Away off by Chi

ai

ose opalescent clouds streaking the sky are merel

sadness," h

to have end

nd looked at him. He preferred to

ack to your hotel and wondered. The wine was over strong for your tem

ou judged in your wise new-world fa

he current running landward drew them about the corner, under the madonna's hand,

go so easily." One hand fell beside his

responded, slowly. "It lies be

ne ashore. Silence h

t, variety-for the man who loves y

ips parted as if

, strained to plunge h

ugh you nothing may pass. Like the dead sea of grass you encompass the end of desire. You have been with me from

ips c

o

ot forget you. You will go with me, and I shall hunger for you and hate y

hand," she repeated softly

t, nor talk; the tide flows underneath into the laguna morta, and never wholly flows out. God has pa

he murmured. "O

s hand. Venice sank into a gray blot in the la

sung lyric. Possible as the light of worlds behind the sun and m

eyes flamed; the dark hair glea

enough for