As the music flowed out again in summer fullness, he put out his arm along the back of the seat instinctively in answer to the girl's shy turning, the natural movement of their common equity in the night's unrealized wonder.
IX "Peter! oh, Peter!" It was dark in the room when Peter awoke, but he knew it was morning by the salt smell which he thought came into the room from the cove beyond Bloombury pastures, until he roused in his bed and knew it for the smell of the lagoons.

He looked out to see the beginning of rose light on the world and understood that he was called.

He did not hear the voice again but out there in the shimmering space the call awaited him.

It might be the Princess.
He dressed and got down quietly into the shadowed city and waked a frowsy gondolier asleep in his gondola.

They spoke softly, both of them, before the morning hush, as they swung out into the open water between the towers of San Georgio fairily dim, and the pillars of the saints; the city floated in a mist of blueness, the dome of the Saluti faintly pearled.
"_Dove, Signore ?_" The gondolier feathered his oar.
"_Un giro_"-- Peter waved his arm seaward; the dip of the oar had a stealthy sound in the deserted dawning.