and covered Vittorio's hands with her own. Some
whispered word must have followed, for the old light
broke over her face and she would have cried out for
joy had not Luigi cautioned her. For a moment the
two stood with fingers intertwined, their bowed foreheads
kept apart by the cold grating. Then the boy,
straining his face between the bars, as if to reach her
lips, loosened one hand, took something from his
pocket and slipped it over her finger.

It was her wedding ring.




IV



Summer has faded, the gold of autumn has turned
to brown, and the raw, cold winds of winter have
whirled the dead leaves over rookeries, quay, and
garden. The boats rock at their tethers and now and
then a sea gull darts through the canal and sweeps on
to the lagoon. In the narrow opening fronting the
broad waters lawless waves quarrel and clash, forcing
their way among the frightened ripples of San Giuseppe,
ashy gray under the lowering sky.

All these months a girl has clung to an iron grating