He was
on his way to the station when Madame de Vaurigard's gondola shot out
into the Grand Canal from a narrow channel, and at her signal both boats
paused.
"Ah! but you fly away!" she cried, lifting her eyebrows mournfully,
as she saw the steamer-trunk in his gondola. "You are goin' return to
America?"
"No. I'm just leaving for Rome."
"Well, in three day' _I_ am goin' to Rome!" She clapped her hands
lightly and laughed. "You know this is three time' we meet jus' by
chance, though that second time it was so quick--_pff_! like that--we
didn't talk much togezzer! Monsieur Mellin," she laughed again, "I think
we mus' be frien's. Three time'--an' we are both goin' to Rome! Monsieur
Mellin, you believe in _Fate_?"
With a beating heart he did.
Thence came the invitation to meet her at the Magnifique for tea, and
the card she scribbled for him with a silver pencil. She gave it with
the prettiest gesture, leaning from her gondola to his as they parted.
She turned again, as the water between them widened, and with her "_Au
revoir_" offered him a faintly wistful smile to remember.
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