The dawn came softly and quickly, ushered in by the bell of St Mark's campanile. Justine stood on the balcony on top of Riccardo's apartment, and marveled at the beauty of the morning.

She had spent the night in his arms, not making love, but enclosed in safety. Instinctively he had known what she needed, and had given it to her. A generous man, loving generously.

He came up through the trapdoor, bearing a cup of hot tea.

"You're a magician," she said. "I'm just ready to murder for a cup of tea."

She sipped blissfully, looking around her and down into the narrow alleys. Then she stiffened.

"What's that? It looks like water in the streets."

"It is," Riccardo sighed. "It's high tide and the lagoon has flooded. It used to only happen in winter. Now it can be at any time."

The photographer in her spoke at once. "I must get my camera."

He grinned ruefully. "How did I know you were going to say that? Come on, I'll take you home."

Outside she found the whole aspect of Venice transformed. Wherever she looked the narrow streets seemed to be lakes, and although the water was only four inches deep the effect was still staggering.

Running like children, hand in hand, they splashed their way back to the palazzo and secured all her equipment.

"First we go to St. Mark's Square," he said. "It's an astonishing sight when this happens, and it won't last long because the tide will turn."

It was like that all day. He acted as her caddy and her advisor, telling her where to find the best shots.

"I love this city," she said as they finally sat together at Florian's, drinking chocolate.