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Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856-1925

"Red Eve"

In leather-lined mail we should surely melt."
So they put on some light cloaks made of black silk, with hoods to them,
such as the Venetians wore at their masques, for David knew where these
were to be found. Slipping out quite unobserved by the kitchen door into
a little courtyard, they passed into an unlighted back street through a
postern gate whereof the lad had the key. At the end of the street they
came to a canal, where David, who talked Italian perfectly, hailed a
boat, into which they entered without exciting remark. For this sharp
youth pointed to their cloaks and told the boatman that they were
gallants engaged upon some amorous adventure.
On they rowed down the silent lanes of water, through the slumbrous
city of palaces, turning here, turning there, till soon they lost
all knowledge of the direction in which they headed. At length David
whispered to them that they drew near the place where they must land.
Everybody seemed to speak in a whisper that heavy night, even the folk,
generally so light of heart and quick of tongue, who sat on the steps
or beneath the porticoes of their houses gasping for air, and the
passers-by on the _rivas_ or footwalks that bordered the canals. At a
sign from David the boat turned inward and grated against the steps of
a marble quay. He paid the boatman, who seemed to have no energy left to
dispute the fare, telling him in the same low voice that if he cared
to wait he might perhaps row them back within an hour or so.


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