Emily gazed with admiration on the
villas of the Venetian noblesse, with their cool porticos and
colonnades, overhung with poplars and cypresses of majestic height and
lively verdure; on their rich orangeries, whose blossoms perfumed the
air, and on the luxuriant willows, that dipped their light leaves in
the wave, and sheltered from the sun the gay parties whose music came
at intervals on the breeze. The Carnival did, indeed, appear to extend
from Venice along the whole line of these enchanting shores; the river
was gay with boats passing to that city, exhibiting the fantastic
diversity of a masquerade in the dresses of the people within them;
and, towards evening, groups of dancers frequently were seen beneath
the trees. Cavigni, meanwhile, informed her of the names of the noblemen to whom
the several villas they passed belonged, adding light sketches of their
characters, such as served to amuse rather than to inform, exhibiting
his own wit instead of the delineation of truth. Emily was sometimes
diverted by his conversation; but his gaiety did not entertain Madame
Montoni, as it had formerly done; she was frequently grave, and Montoni
retained his usual reserve. Nothing could exceed Emily’s admiration on her first view of Venice,
with its islets, palaces, and towers rising out of the sea, whose clear
surface reflected the tremulous picture in all its colours. The sun,
sinking in the west, tinted the waves and the lofty mountains of
Friuli, which skirt the northern shores of the Adriatic, with a saffron
glow, while on the marble porticos and colonnades of St. Mark were
thrown the rich lights and shades of evening. As they glided on, the
grander features of this city appeared more distinctly: its terraces,
crowned with airy yet majestic fabrics, touched, as they now were, with
the splendour of the setting sun, appeared as if they had been called
up from the ocean by the wand of an enchanter, rather than reared by
mortal hands. The sun, soon after, sinking to the lower world, the shadow of the
earth stole gradually over the waves, and then up the towering sides of
the mountains of Friuli, till it extinguished even the last upward
beams that had lingered on their summits, and the melancholy purple of
evening drew over them, like a thin veil. How deep, how beautiful was
the tranquillity that wrapped the scene! All nature seemed to repose;
the finest emotions of the soul were alone awake. Emily’s eyes filled
with tears of admiration and sublime devotion, as she raised them over
the sleeping world to the vast heavens, and heard the notes of solemn
music, that stole over the waters from a distance. She listened in
still rapture, and no person of the party broke the charm by an
enquiry. The sounds seemed to grow on the air; for so smoothly did the
barge glide along, that its motion was not perceivable, and the fairy
city appeared approaching to welcome the strangers. They now
distinguished a female voice, accompanied by a few instruments, singing
a soft and mournful air; and its fine expression, as sometimes it
seemed pleading with the impassioned tenderness of love, and then
languishing into the cadence of hopeless grief, declared, that it
flowed from no feigned sensibility. Ah! thought Emily, as she sighed
and remembered Valancourt, those strains come from the heart! She looked round, with anxious enquiry; the deep twilight, that had
fallen over the scene, admitted only imperfect images to the eye, but,
at some distance on the sea, she thought she perceived a gondola: a
chorus of voices and instruments now swelled on the air—so sweet, so
solemn! it seemed like the hymn of angels descending through the
silence of night! Now it died away, and fancy almost beheld the holy
choir reascending towards heaven; then again it swelled with the
breeze, trembled awhile, and again died into silence. It brought to
Emily’s recollection some lines of her late father, and she repeated in
a low voice,

Oft I hear,
Upon the silence of the midnight air,
Celestial voices swell in holy chorus
That bears the soul to heaven! The deep stillness, that succeeded, was as expressive as the strain
that had just ceased. It was uninterrupted for several minutes, till a
general sigh seemed to release the company from their enchantment. Emily, however, long indulged the pleasing sadness, that had stolen
upon her spirits; but the gay and busy scene that appeared, as the
barge approached St. Mark’s Place, at length roused her attention. The
rising moon, which threw a shadowy light upon the terraces, and
illumined the porticos and magnificent arcades that crowned them,
discovered the various company, whose light steps, soft guitars, and
softer voices, echoed through the colonnades. The music they heard before now passed Montoni’s barge, in one of the
gondolas, of which several were seen skimming along the moonlight sea,
full of gay parties, catching the cool breeze. Most of these had music,
made sweeter by the waves over which it floated, and by the measured
sound of oars, as they dashed the sparkling tide. Emily gazed, and
listened, and thought herself in a fairy scene; even Madame Montoni was
pleased; Montoni congratulated himself on his return to Venice, which
he called the first city in the world, and Cavigni was more gay and
animated than ever. The barge passed on to the grand canal, where Montoni’s mansion was
situated. And here, other forms of beauty and of grandeur, such as her
imagination had never painted, were unfolded to Emily in the palaces of
Sansovino and Palladio, as she glided along the waves. The air bore no
sounds, but those of sweetness, echoing along each margin of the canal,
and from gondolas on its surface, while groups of masks were seen
dancing on the moonlight terraces, and seemed almost to realise the
romance of fairyland. The barge stopped before the portico of a large house, from whence a
servant of Montoni crossed the terrace, and immediately the party
disembarked. From the portico they passed a noble hall to a staircase
of marble, which led to a saloon, fitted up in a style of magnificence
that surprised Emily. The walls and ceilings were adorned with
historical and allegorical paintings, in _fresco_; silver tripods,
depending from chains of the same metal, illumined the apartment, the
floor of which was covered with Indian mats painted in a variety of
colours and devices; the couches and drapery of the lattices were of
pale green silk, embroidered and fringed with green and gold. Balcony
lattices opened upon the grand canal, whence rose a confusion of voices
and of musical instruments, and the breeze that gave freshness to the
apartment. Emily, considering the gloomy temper of Montoni, looked upon
the splendid furniture of this house with surprise, and remembered the
report of his being a man of broken fortune, with astonishment. “Ah!”
said she to herself, “if Valancourt could but see this mansion, what
peace would it give him!