Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. One day she had thrown all the gifts into the lagoon, and visited the secret nook no more. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. “Further than that, I am amazed that you should dare to allude to those few moments, to that single moment of folly.
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