Aboutmidwayintheshortvistawhichmydreamyvisiontookin，onesmallcircularisland，profuselyverdured，reposeduponthebosomofthestream。
SoblendedbankandshadowthereThateachseemedpendulousinairsomirror-likewastheglassywater，thatitwasscarcelypossibletosayatwhatpointupontheslopeoftheemeraldturfitscrystaldominionbegan。
Mypositionenabledmetoincludeinasingleviewboththeeasternandwesternextremitiesoftheislet；andIobservedasingularly-markeddifferenceintheiraspects。Thelatterwasalloneradiantharemofgardenbeauties。Itglowedandblushedbeneaththeeyesoftheslantsunlight，andfairlylaughedwithflowers。Thegrasswasshort，springy，sweet-scented，andAsphodel-interspersed。
Thetreeswerelithe，mirthful，erectbright，slender，andgraceful，ofeasternfigureandfoliage，withbarksmooth，glossy，andparti-colored。Thereseemedadeepsenseoflifeandjoyaboutall；andalthoughnoairsblewfromouttheheavens，yeteverythinghadmotionthroughthegentlesweepingstoandfroofinnumerablebutterflies，thatmighthavebeenmistakenfortulipswithwings。
Theotheroreasternendoftheislewaswhelmedintheblackestshade。Asombre，yetbeautifulandpeacefulgloomherepervadedallthings。Thetreesweredarkincolor，andmournfulinformandattitude，wreathingthemselvesintosad，solemn，andspectralshapesthatconveyedideasofmortalsorrowanduntimelydeath。Thegrassworethedeeptintofthecypress，andtheheadsofitsbladeshungdroopingly，andhitherandthitheramongitweremanysmallunsightlyhillocks，lowandnarrow，andnotverylong，thathadtheaspectofgraves，butwerenot；althoughoverandallaboutthemtherueandtherosemaryclambered。Theshadeofthetreesfellheavilyuponthewater，andseemedtoburyitselftherein，impregnatingthedepthsoftheelementwithdarkness。Ifanciedthateachshadow，asthesundescendedlowerandlower，separateditselfsullenlyfromthetrunkthatgaveitbirth，andthusbecameabsorbedbythestream；whileothershadowsissuedmomentlyfromthetrees，takingtheplaceoftheirpredecessorsthusentombed。
Thisidea，havingonceseizeduponmyfancy，greatlyexcitedit，andIlostmyselfforthwithinrevery。“Ifeverislandwereenchanted。”
saidItomyself，“thisisit。ThisisthehauntofthefewgentleFayswhoremainfromthewreckoftherace。Arethesegreentombstheirs？ordotheyyielduptheirsweetlivesasmankindyielduptheirown？Indying，dotheynotratherwasteawaymournfully，renderinguntoGod，littlebylittle，theirexistence，asthesetreesrenderupshadowaftershadow，exhaustingtheirsubstanceuntodissolution？Whatthewastingtreeistothewaterthatimbibesitsshade，growingthusblackerbywhatitpreysupon，maynotthelifeoftheFaybetothedeathwhichengulfsit？”
AsIthusmused，withhalf-shuteyes，whilethesunsankrapidlytorest，andeddyingcurrentscareeredroundandroundtheisland，bearingupontheirbosomlarge，dazzling，whiteflakesofthebarkofthesycamore-flakeswhich，intheirmultiformpositionsuponthewater，aquickimaginationmighthaveconvertedintoanythingitpleased，whileIthusmused，itappearedtomethattheformofoneofthoseveryFaysaboutwhomIhadbeenponderingmadeitswayslowlyintothedarknessfromoutthelightatthewesternendoftheisland。Shestooderectinasingularlyfragilecanoe，andurgeditwiththemerephantomofanoar。Whilewithintheinfluenceofthelingeringsunbeams，herattitudeseemedindicativeofjoybutsorrowdeformeditasshepassedwithintheshade。Slowlysheglidedalong，andatlengthroundedtheisletandre-enteredtheregionoflight。“TherevolutionwhichhasjustbeenmadebytheFay。”
continuedI，musingly，“isthecycleofthebriefyearofherlife。
Shehasfloatedthroughherwinterandthroughhersummer。SheisayearneareruntoDeath；forIdidnotfailtoseethat，asshecameintotheshade，hershadowfellfromher，andwasswallowedupinthedarkwater，makingitsblacknessmoreblack。”
AndagaintheboatappearedandtheFay，butabouttheattitudeofthelattertherewasmoreofcareanduncertaintyandlessofelasticjoy。Shefloatedagainfromoutthelightandintothegloomwhichdeepenedmomentlyandagainhershadowfellfromherintotheebonywater，andbecameabsorbedintoitsblackness。Andagainandagainshemadethecircuitoftheisland，whilethesunrusheddowntohisslumbers，andateachissuingintothelighttherewasmoresorrowaboutherperson，whileitgrewfeeblerandfarfainterandmoreindistinct，andateachpassageintothegloomtherefellfromheradarkershade，whichbecamewhelmedinashadowmoreblack。Butatlengthwhenthesunhadutterlydeparted，theFay，nowthemereghostofherformerself，wentdisconsolatelywithherboatintotheregionoftheebonyflood，andthatsheissuedthenceatallIcannotsay，fordarknessfelloveranthingsandIbeheldhermagicalfigurenomore。
Stayformethere！Iwillnotfail。
Tomeettheeinthathollowvale。
[_Exequyonthedeathofhiswife，byHenryKing，BishopofChichester_。]
ILL-FATEDandmysteriousman！-bewilderedinthebrilliancyofthineownimagination，andfallenintheflamesofthineownyouth！
AgaininfancyIbeholdthee！Oncemorethyformhathrisenbeforeme！-not-ohnotasthouart-inthecoldvalleyandshadow-
butasthou_shouldstbe_-squanderingawayalifeofmagnificentmeditationinthatcityofdimvisions，thineownVenice-whichisastar-belovedElysiumofthesea，andthewidewindowsofwhosePalladianpalaceslookdownwithadeepandbittermeaninguponthesecretsofhersilentwaters。Yes！Irepeatit-asthou_shouldstbe_。Therearesurelyotherworldsthanthis-otherthoughtsthanthethoughtsofthemultitude-otherspeculationsthanthespeculationsofthesophist。Whothenshallcallthyconductintoquestion？whoblametheeforthyvisionaryhours，ordenouncethoseoccupationsasawastingawayoflife，whichwerebuttheoverflowingsofthineeverlastingenergies？
ItwasatVenice，beneaththecoveredarchwaytherecalledthe_PontediSospiri_，thatImetforthethirdorfourthtimethepersonofwhomIspeak。ItiswithaconfusedrecollectionthatI
bringtomindthecircumstancesofthatmeeting。YetIremember-ah！howshouldIforget？-thedeepmidnight，theBridgeofSighs，thebeautyofwoman，andtheGeniusofRomancethatstalkedupanddownthenarrowcanal。
Itwasanightofunusualgloom。ThegreatclockofthePiazzahadsoundedthefifthhouroftheItalianevening。ThesquareoftheCampanilelaysilentanddeserted，andthelightsintheoldDucalPalaceweredyingfastaway。IwasreturninghomefromthePiazetta，bywayoftheGrandCanal。ButasmygondolaarrivedoppositethemouthofthecanalSanMarco，afemalevoicefromitsrecessesbrokesuddenlyuponthenight，inonewild，hysterical，andlongcontinuedshriek。Startledatthesound，Ispranguponmyfeet：whilethegondolier，lettingsliphissingleoar，lostitinthepitchydarknessbeyondachanceofrecovery，andwewereconsequentlylefttotheguidanceofthecurrentwhichheresetsfromthegreaterintothesmallerchannel。Likesomehugeandsable-featheredcondor，wewereslowlydriftingdowntowardstheBridgeofSighs，whenathousandflambeauxflashingfromthewindows，anddownthestaircasesoftheDucalPalace，turnedallatoncethatdeepgloomintoalividandpreternaturalday。
Achild，slippingfromthearmsofitsownmother，hadfallenfromanupperwindowoftheloftystructureintothedeepanddimcanal。
Thequietwatershadclosedplacidlyovertheirvictim；and，althoughmyowngondolawastheonlyoneinsight，manyastoutswimmer，alreadyinthestream，wasseekinginvainuponthesurface，thetreasurewhichwastobefound，alas！onlywithintheabyss。
Uponthebroadblackmarbleflagstonesattheentranceofthepalace，andafewstepsabovethewater，stoodafigurewhichnonewhothensawcanhaveeversinceforgotten。ItwastheMarchesaAphrodite-
theadorationofallVenice-thegayestofthegay-themostlovelywhereallwerebeautiful-butstilltheyoungwifeoftheoldandintriguingMentoni，andthemotherofthatfairchild，herfirstandonlyone，whonow，deepbeneaththemurkywater，wasthinkinginbitternessofheartuponhersweetcaresses，andexhaustingitslittlelifeinstrugglestocalluponhername。
Shestoodalone。Hersmall，bare，andsilveryfeetgleamedintheblackmirrorofmarblebeneathher。Herhair，notasyetmorethanhalfloosenedforthenightfromitsball-roomarray，clustered，amidashowerofdiamonds，roundandroundherclassicalhead，incurlslikethoseoftheyounghyacinth。Asnowy-whiteandgauze-likedraperyseemedtobenearlythesolecoveringtoherdelicateform；
butthemid-summerandmidnightairwashot，sullen，andstill，andnomotioninthestatue-likeformitself，stirredeventhefoldsofthatraimentofveryvaporwhichhungarounditastheheavymarblehangsaroundtheNiobe。Yet-strangetosay！-herlargelustrouseyeswerenotturneddownwardsuponthatgravewhereinherbrightesthopelayburied-butrivetedinawidelydifferentdirection！TheprisonoftheOldRepublicis，Ithink，thestateliestbuildinginallVenice-buthowcouldthatladygazesofixedlyuponit，whenbeneathherlaystiflingheronlychild？Yondark，gloomyniche，too，yawnsrightoppositeherchamberwindow-what，then，_could_
therebeinitsshadows-initsarchitecture-initsivy-wreathedandsolemncornices-thattheMarchesadiMentonihadnotwonderedatathousandtimesbefore？Nonsense！-Whodoesnotrememberthat，atsuchatimeasthis，theeye，likeashatteredmirror，multipliestheimagesofitssorrow，andseesininnumerablefar-offplaces，thewowhichiscloseathand？
ManystepsabovetheMarchesa，andwithinthearchofthewater-gate，stood，infulldress，theSatyr-likefigureofMentonihimself。Hewasoccasionallyoccupiedinthrummingaguitar，andseemed_ennuye_totheverydeath，asatintervalshegavedirectionsfortherecoveryofhischild。Stupifiedandaghast，IhadmyselfnopowertomovefromtheuprightpositionIhadassumeduponfirsthearingtheshriek，andmusthavepresentedtotheeyesoftheagitatedgroupaspectralandominousappearance，aswithpalecountenanceandrigidlimbs，Ifloateddownamongtheminthatfunerealgondola。
Alleffortsprovedinvain。Manyofthemostenergeticinthesearchwererelaxingtheirexertions，andyieldingtoagloomysorrow。Thereseemedbutlittlehopeforthechild；howmuchlessthanforthemother！butnow，fromtheinteriorofthatdarknichewhichhasbeenalreadymentionedasformingapartoftheOldRepublicanprison，andasfrontingthelatticeoftheMarchesa，afiguremuffledinacloak，steppedoutwithinreachofthelight，and，pausingamomentuponthevergeofthegiddydescent，plungedheadlongintothecanal。As，inaninstantafterwards，hestoodwiththestilllivingandbreathingchildwithinhisgrasp，uponthemarbleflagstonesbythesideoftheMarchesa，hiscloak，heavywiththedrenchingwater，becameunfastened，and，fallinginfoldsabouthisfeet，discoveredtothewonder-strickenspectatorsthegracefulpersonofaveryyoungman，withthesoundofwhosenamethegreaterpartofEuropewasthenringing。
Nowordspokethedeliverer。ButtheMarchesa！Shewillnowreceiveherchild-shewillpressittoherheart-shewillclingtoitslittleform，andsmotheritwithhercaresses。Alas！
_another’s_armshavetakenitfromthestranger-_another’s_armshavetakenitaway，andborneitafaroff，unnoticed，intothepalace！AndtheMarchesa！Herlip-herbeautifulliptrembles：tearsaregatheringinhereyes-thoseeyeswhich，likePliny’sacanthus，are“softandalmostliquid。”Yes！tearsaregatheringinthoseeyes-andsee！theentirewomanthrillsthroughoutthesoul，andthestatuehasstartedintolife！Thepallorofthemarblecountenance，theswellingofthemarblebosom，theverypurityofthemarblefeet，webeholdsuddenlyflushedoverwithatideofungovernablecrimson；andaslightshudderquiversaboutherdelicateframe，asagentleairatNapoliabouttherichsilverliliesinthegrass。
Why_should_thatladyblush！Tothisdemandthereisnoanswer-exceptthat，havingleft，intheeagerhasteandterrorofamother’sheart，theprivacyofherown_boudoir_，shehasneglectedtoenthralhertinyfeetintheirslippers，andutterlyforgottentothrowoverherVenetianshouldersthatdraperywhichistheirdue。
Whatotherpossiblereasoncouldtherehavebeenforhersoblushing？-fortheglanceofthosewildappealingeyes？fortheunusualtumultofthatthrobbingbosom？-fortheconvulsivepressureofthattremblinghand？-thathandwhichfell，asMentoniturnedintothepalace，accidentally，uponthehandofthestranger。Whatreasoncouldtherehavebeenforthelow-thesingularlylowtoneofthoseunmeaningwordswhichtheladyutteredhurriedlyinbiddinghimadieu？“Thouhastconquered。”shesaid，orthemurmursofthewaterdeceivedme；“thouhastconquered-onehouraftersunrise-weshallmeet-soletitbe！”