midday
`` If you are going to tell ghost-stories , '' cried Coeur-Volant , `` I will call for a bottle of Canary ! '' `` And I , '' rejoined the Count good-humouredly , `` will try to coax the ladies forth with a song ; '' and picking up his lute , which always lay within reach , he began to sing in the Venetian dialect : -- There 's a villa on the Brenta Where the statues , white as snow , All along the water-terrace Perch like sea-gulls in a row . There 's a garden on the Brenta Where the fairest ladies meet , Picking roses from the trellis For the gallants at their feet . There 's an arbour on the Brenta Made of yews that screen the light , Where I kiss my girl at midday Close as lovers kiss at night . The players soon emerged at this call and presently the deck resounded with song and laughter . All the company were familiar with the Venetian bacaroles , and Castelrovinato 's lute was passed from hand to hand , as one after another , incited by the Marquess 's Canary , tried to recall some favourite measure -- `` La biondina in gondoleta '' or `` Guarda , che bella luna . '' Meanwhile life was stirring in the villages and gardens , and groups of people appearing on the terraces overhanging the water .