Victorian Short Stories | Page 2

my intense delight her reflection nodded in reply. And so our
two reflections became known to one another.
It did not take me very long to fall in love with her, but a long time
passed before I could make up my mind to do more than nod to her
every morning, when the old woman moved me from my bed to the
sofa at the window, and again in the evening, when the little maid left
the balcony for that day. One day, however, when I saw her reflection
looking at mine, I nodded to her, and threw a flower into the canal. She
nodded several times in return, and I saw her direct her mother's
attention to the incident. Then every morning I threw a flower into the
water for 'good morning', and another in the evening for 'goodnight',
and I soon discovered that I had not altogether thrown them in vain, for
one day she threw a flower to join mine, and she laughed and clapped
her hands when she saw the two flowers join forces and float away
together. And then every morning and every evening she threw her
flower when I threw mine, and when the two flowers met she clapped
her hands, and so did I; but when they were separated, as they
sometimes were, owing to one of them having met an obstruction
which did not catch the other, she threw up her hands in a pretty
affectation of despair, which I tried to imitate but in an English and
unsuccessful fashion. And when they were rudely run down by a
passing gondola (which happened not unfrequently) she pretended to
cry, and I did the same. Then, in pretty pantomime, she would point

downwards to the sky to tell me that it was Destiny that had caused the
shipwreck of our flowers, and I, in pantomime, not nearly so pretty,
would try to convey to her that Destiny would be kinder next time, and
that perhaps tomorrow our flowers would be more fortunate--and so the
innocent courtship went on. One day she showed me her crucifix and
kissed it, and thereupon I took a little silver crucifix that always stood
by me, and kissed that, and so she knew that we were one in religion.
One day the little maid did not appear on her balcony, and for several
days I saw nothing of her; and although I threw my flowers as usual, no
flower came to keep it company. However, after a time, she reappeared,
dressed in black, and crying often, and then I knew that the poor child's
mother was dead, and, as far as I knew, she was alone in the world. The
flowers came no more for many days, nor did she show any sign of
recognition, but kept her eyes on her work, except when she placed her
handkerchief to them. And opposite to her was the old lady's chair, and
I could see that, from time to time, she would lay down her work and
gaze at it, and then a flood of tears would come to her relief. But at last
one day she roused herself to nod to me, and then her flower came, day
by day, and my flower went forth to join it, and with varying fortunes
the two flowers sailed away as of yore.
But the darkest day of all to me was when a good-looking young
gondolier, standing right end uppermost in his gondola (for I could see
him in the flesh), worked his craft alongside the house, and stood
talking to her as she sat on the balcony. They seemed to speak as old
friends--indeed, as well as I could make out, he held her by the hand
during the whole of their interview which lasted quite half an hour.
Eventually he pushed off, and left my heart heavy within me. But I
soon took heart of grace, for as soon as he was out of sight, the little
maid threw two flowers growing on the same stem--an allegory of
which I could make nothing, until it broke upon me that she meant to
convey to me that he and she were brother and sister, and that I had no
cause to be sad. And thereupon I nodded to her cheerily, and she
nodded to me, and laughed aloud, and I laughed in return, and all went
on again as before.
Then came a dark and dreary time, for it became necessary that I
should undergo treatment that confined me absolutely to my bed for
many days, and I worried and fretted to think that the little maid and I

should see each other no longer, and worse still, that she would think
that I had gone away without even hinting to