A round-faced friar was giving obliging information. The contest would
be between the Frari and the Servi; there was a new brother who had just
entered their order,--and very learned, it was said,--but the name was
not known. He would appear to respond to the propositions of the Frari.

"Yes, the theses would be in Latin--and harder, it was said, had never
been seen. There were the theses in one of those black frames, at the
side of the great door."

"But Latin is no good, except in missals, for women and priests to
read."

The gondolier who owned the voice was undiscoverable among the crowd,
and the remark passed with some humorous retaliation.

Hints of the day's entertainment sifted about, with much more,--each
suggestion, true or otherwise, waking its little ripple of interest,--as
some nearest the curtain lifted it up, went in, and returned, bringing
reports.

"The church is filled with great ones, and Mass is going on," a small
scout reported; "and that was Don Ambrogio Morelli that just went in
with a lady--our old Abbé from the school at San Marcuolo--Beppo goes
there now! And don't some of us remember Pierino--always studying and
good for nothing, and not knowing enough to wade out of a _rio_? The
Madonna will have hard work to look after _him_!"

"Don Ambrogio just wants to cram us boys," Beppo confessed, in a
confidential tone; "but it's no use knowing too much, even for a priest.