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