"You going to sit there all day?" asked the gondolier, interrupting his musing. "Or are you going to get out?"

Startled, Benito stood up and reached for the mooring-pole.

"You can pay me, Valdosta," said Theodoro, dryly.

Flushing, Benito did. Generously. After all, money was the one thing he had plenty of now.

Benito was not surprised to find Katerina Montescue on the quay-side. And if Kat was going to be there, his brother was almost inevitably going to be, too.

Marco and Kat eyed him with considerable wariness as he came up. "You shouldn't be here!" hissed Kat.

Benito held up his hands, pacifically. "I'm not going to cause any trouble."

"You should have caused trouble," said Kat crossly, "before she did this. It's too late now."

Benito nodded, and swallowed to clear the lump in his throat. "I know. Now all I can do is… not make trouble. So I'm just going to say good-bye to an old friend."

The spitting-tabby glow in Kat's eyes died. She patted his arm, awkwardly. "Maybe it is for the best. I mean, she seems happy enough."

Benito looked over to where Maria Garavelli-no, not Garavelli any more; Verrier, now-was talking to two older women. She seemed, if not happy, at least to be her usual abrasive self.

"Don't be crazy!" she was saying. "The boat's worth twice that. Put it up on blocks in Tomaso's yard if you won't use it."

Benito missed half of the reply. Something about "… when you come back."

Maria shook her head emphatically. "I'm not coming back."

Benito winced at that certainty.

Maria caught sight of him, then. Immediately, she turned and strode over to him, her dark eyes flashing.

"What are you doing here, 'Nito?" There was challenge in her voice, challenge, and deep down, anger. If there was anything else there, he didn't want to know about it.