Even the pigeons of St. Mark were visible, in dark closely packed rows,
roosting in the archways of the great entrance doors.
'I never saw the old church look so beautiful by moonlight,'
the Countess said quietly; speaking, not to Francis, but to herself.
'Good-bye, St. Mark's by moonlight! I shall not see you again.'
She turned away from the church, and saw Francis listening
to her with wondering looks. 'No,' she resumed, placidly picking
up the lost thread of the conversation, 'I don't know why Miss
Lockwood is coming here, I only know that we are to meet in Venice.'
'By previous appointment?'
'By Destiny,' she answered, with her head on her breast, and her
eyes on the ground. Francis burst out laughing. 'Or, if you like
it better,' she instantly resumed, 'by what fools call Chance.'
Francis answered easily, out of the depths of his strong common sense.
'Chance seems to be taking a queer way of bringing the meeting about,'
he said. 'We have all arranged to meet at the Palace Hotel.
How is it that your name is not on the Visitors' List? Destiny ought
to have brought you to the Palace Hotel too.
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