“I was under a continual misapprehension that we would see no-one but those hiding behind a mask,” said Elizabeth, as they were walking about the city one evening, “and that all of the women were hid behind bars, chained under lock and key. Instead, women in Venice go about with a remarkable degree of freedom, unusual even for London or Paris. Moreover, a mask is no-where to be seen! Georgiana, what do your books have to say on these matters?”

Georgiana briefly replied that masks had disappeared with the French governance, as had, presumably, the practise of securing women within the house.

Mr. Darcy replied that he believed the whole mystery of the mask to be one largely of fiction. “When I was here previously, the mask was become an innocent affectation, conceived in antiquity as the general method for hiding the identities of murderers and thieves. The anonymous evils once commonly perpetrated via the stiletto had even then been long-remedied. Indeed, so long ago as to be within even my memory, a mask was at that time only used by such gentlemen who wished to go abroad without the encumbrance of wearing full dress. A mask stuck up in the hat and a great black cape, was regarded as acceptable dress for any appearance in Venetian society. In the last years before the French occupation, I believe that masks were regarded as a quaint affectation of older gentlemen who wished for a reputation of intrigue, but who would more likely prefer a warm seat by the fire to the most beautiful woman in Venice.”