One day the little maid did not appear on her balcony， andfor several days I saw nothing of her； and although I threw myflowers as usual， no flower came to keep it company. However，after a time， she reappeared， dressed in black， and crying often，and then I knew that the poor child’s mother was dead， and， asfar as I knew， she was alone in the world. The flowers came nomore for many days， nor did she show any sign of recognition，but kept her eyes on her work， except when she placed herhandkerchief to them. And opposite to her was the old lady’schair， and I could see that， from time to time， she would laydown her work and gaze at it， and then a flood of tears wouldcome to her relief. But at last one day she roused herself to nodto me， and then her flower came， day by day， and my flowerwent forth to join it， and with varying fortunes the two flowerssailed away as of yore.
But the darkest day of all to me was when a good-lookingyoung gondolier， standing right end uppermost in his gondola（for I could see him in the flesh）， worked his craft alongsidethe house， and stood talking to her as she sat on the balcony.
They seemed to speak as old friends—indeed， as well as Icould make out， he held her by the hand during the whole oftheir interview which lasted quite half an hour. Eventually hepushed off， and left my heart heavy within me. But I soon tookheart of grace， for as soon as he was out of sight， the little maidthrew two flowers growing on the same stem—an allegory ofwhich I could make nothing， until it broke upon me that shemeant to convey to me that he and she were brother and sister，and that I had no cause to be sad. And thereupon I nodded toher cheerily， and she nodded to me， and laughed aloud， and Ilaughed in return， and all went on again as before.
Then came a dark and dreary time， for it became necessarythat I should undergo treatment that confined me absolutely tomy bed for many days， and I worried and fretted to think that thelittle maid and I should see each other no longer， and worse still，that she would think that I had gone away without even hintingto her that I was going. And I lay awake at night wondering howI could let her know the truth， and fifty plans flitted through mybrain， all appearing to be feasible enough at night， but absolutelywild and impracticable in the morning. One day—and it was abright day indeed for me—the old woman who tended me toldme that a gondolier had inquired whether the English signorhad gone away or had died； and so I learnt that the little maidhad been anxious about me， and that she had sent her brother toinquire， and the brother had no doubt taken to her the reason ofmy protracted absence from the window.
From that day， and ever after during my three weeks of bedkeeping，a flower was found every morning on the ledge ofmy window， which was within easy reach of anyone in a boat；and when at last a day came when I could be moved， I tookmy accustomed place on my sofa at the window， and the littlemaid saw me， and stood on her head （so to speak） and clappedher hands upside down with a delight that was as eloquentas my right-end-up delight could be. And so the first timethe gondolier passed my window I beckoned to him， and hepushed alongside， and told me， with many bright smiles， thathe was glad indeed to see me well again. Then I thanked himand his sister for their many kind thoughts about me during myretreat， and I then learnt from him that her name was Angela，and that she was the best and purest maiden in all Venice， andthat anyone might think himself happy indeed who could callher sister， but that he was happier even than her brother， for hewas to be married to her， and indeed they were to be marriedthe next day.
Thereupon my heart seemed to swell to bursting， and theblood rushed through my veins so that I could hear it andnothing else for a while. I managed at last to stammer forthsome words of awkward congratulation， and he left me，singing merrily， after asking permission to bring his bride tosee me on the morrow as they returned from church.
‘For’， said he， ‘my Angela has known you very long—eversince she was a child， and she has often spoken to me of thepoor Englishman who was a good Catholic， and who lay allday long for years and years on a sofa at a window， and shehad said over and over again how dearly she wished she couldspeak to him and comfort him； and one day， when you threwa flower into the canal， she asked me whether she might throwanother， and I told her yes， for he would understand that itmeant sympathy for one sorely afflicted.’
And so I learned that it was pity， and not love， except indeedsuch love as is akin to pity， that prompted her to interest herselfin my welfare， and there was an end of it all.
For the two flowers that I thought were on one stem were twoflowers tied together （but I could not tell that）， and they weremeant to indicate that she and the gondolier were affiancedlovers， and my expressed pleasure at this symbol delighted her，for she took it to mean that I rejoiced in her happiness.
And the next day the gondolier came with a train of othergondoliers， all decked in their holiday garb， and on his gondolasat Angela， happy， and blushing at her happiness. Then he and sheentered the house in which I dwelt， and came into my room （andit was strange indeed， after so many years of inversion， to see herwith her head above her feet！）， and then she wished me happinessand a speedy restoration to good health （which could never be）；and I in broken words and with tears in my eyes， gave her thelittle silver crucifix that had stood by my bed or my table for somany years. And Angela took it reverently， and crossed herself，and kissed it， and so departed with her delighted husband.
And as I heard the song of the gondoliers as they went theirway—the song dying away in the distance as the shadows ofthe sundown closed around me—I felt that they were singingthe requiem of the only love that had ever entered my heart.