forms, while the old gondolier turned undecidedly from one to another,
and the tottering gransiere ostentatiously protected the velvet mantle
of the artist as he sprang into the boat. With an impatient gesture the
Veronese indicated his choice, and they were soon on their way.

"Come hither, _vecchio mio_, and rest thine old bones; let the young one
work for us both," the padrone commanded, as he flung himself down among
the cushions. "Do they treat thee well at thy traghetto?"

"Eccellenza, yes; but I am scarce older than the others; it is the young
ones who make us trouble; they keep not the Mariegole, and it is only
the old one may depend upon."

"_Davvero_, the world is changed then! It used to be good to be young."

"Eccellenza, yes; when I myself was not old, and his excellency also had
no beard."

"If age and wisdom might be traded for the time of youthful pranks,"
said the Veronese with twinkling eyes, "I doubt if there were wisdom
enough left in Venice to cavil at the barter! Yet thou and I, having
wisdom thrust upon us by these same beards, if trouble come to thee, or
too soon they put thee at the gransiere service, we will remember this
day passed together."

"Eccellenza, thanks; the gransiere has not much beside his beard to keep
him warm, and the time draws near," the old man answered with pleasant
Venetian insouciance.

"Tell me," said the Veronese, turning to the younger man, "why do you