Farewell, Nikola | Page 2

in Venice. To a thoughtful mind the Great Square
must at all times be an object of absorbing interest. I have seen it at
every hour, and under almost every aspect: at break of day, when one
has it to oneself and is able to enjoy its beauty undisturbed; at midday,
when the importunate shopkeepers endeavour to seduce one into
entering their doors (by tales of the marvels therein); at sunset, when
the cafes are crowded, the band plays, and all is merriment; and last,
but not least, at midnight, when the moon is sailing above Saint Mark's,
the square is full of strange shadows, and the only sound to be heard is
the cry of a gull on the lagoon, or the "Sa Premi" of some belated
gondolier.
"This is the moment to which I have looked forward all my life," said
Miss Trevor, as she sat back in her chair and watched the animated
crowd before her. "Look at that pretty little boy with the pigeons
knocking around him. What a picture he would make if one only had a
camera."
"If you care to have a photo of him one can easily be obtained," I
remarked. "Any one of these enterprising photographers would be only
to pleased to take one for you for a few centissimi. I regret to say that
many of our countrymen have a weakness for being taken in that way."
"Fancy Septimus Brown, of Tooting," my wife remarked, "a typical
English paterfamilias, with a green veil, blue spectacles, and white
umbrella, daring to ask the sun to record his image with the pigeons of
St. Mark's clustering above his venerable head. Can't you picture the

pride of that worthy gentleman's family when they produce the album
on Sunday afternoons and show it to their friends? 'This is pa,' the
eldest girl will probably remark, 'when he was travelling in Venice' (as
if Venice were a country in which one must be perpetually moving on),
'and that's how the pigeons came down to be fed. Isn't it splendid of
him?' Papa, who has never ventured beyond Brighton beach before,
will be a person of importance from that moment."
"You forget one circumstance, however," Miss Trevor replied, who
enjoyed an argument, and for this reason contradicted my wife on
principle, "that in allowing himself to be taken at all, Brown of Tooting
has advanced a step."
For the moment he dared to throw off his insularity, as the picture at
which you are laughing is indisputable testimony. Do you think he
would dare to be photographed in a similar fashion in his own
market-place, standing outside his shop-door with his assistants
watching him from behind the counter? I am quite sure he would not!"
"A very excellent argument," I answered. "Unfortunately, however, it
carries its own refutation. The mere fact that Brown takes the
photograph home to show to his friends goes a long way towards
proving that he is still as insular as when he set out. If he did not
consider himself of sufficient importance to shut out a portion of Saint
Mark's with his voluminous personality, he would not have employed
the photographer at all, in which case we are no further advanced than
before."
These little sparring-matches were a source of great amusement to us.
The Cockney tourist was Miss Trevor's bete noir. And upon this failing
my wife and I loved to twit her. On the whole I rather fancy she liked
being teased by us.
We had finished our coffee and were still idly watching the people
about us when I noticed that my wife had turned a little pale. I was
about to remark upon it, when she uttered an exclamation as if
something had startled her.

"Good gracious! Dick," she cried, "surely it is not possible. It must be a
mistake."
"What is it cannot be possible?" I inquired, "What do you think you
see?"
I glanced in the direction she indicated, but could recognise no one
with whom I was acquainted. An English clergyman and his daughter
were sitting near the entrance to the cafe, and some officers in uniform
were on the other side of them again, but still my wife was looking in
the same direction and with an equally startled face. I placed my hand
upon her arm. It was a long time since I had seen her so agitated.
"Come, darling," I said, "tell me what it is that troubles you."
"Look," she answered, "can you see the table to the right of that at
which those officers are seated?" I was about to reply in the affirmative,
but the shock I received deprived me of speech. The person to whom
my wife had referred had risen from his chair, and was in the