midnight
In her singing she seemed to understand , to love , to pity , to enthrone . In her life she often seemed not to understand , not to love , not to pity , not to place high . She sang of Venice , and those who can not even think of the city in the sea without a flutter of the heart , a feeling not far from soft pain in its tenderness and gratitude , listened to the magic bells at sunset , and glided in the fairy barques across the liquid plains of gold . She spoke of Venice , and they heard only the famished voice of the mosquito uttering its midnight grace before meat . Which was the real Venice ? Which was the real woman ? ON the following day , which was warm and damp ; Lady Holme drove to Bond Street , bought two new hats , had her hand read by a palmist who called himself `` Cupido , '' looked in at a ladies ' club and then went to Mrs. Wolfstein , with whom she was engaged to lunch .