Padua, and Genoa. The others were not ready to begin, so Austria came
on her own account to get what booty and plunder she could. But the
storm is gathering, and will burst before long. But do not let us stand
talking here any longer. It is high time for you to be in bed."

But though Francis retired to his room, it was more than an hour before
he got into bed. His window looked down upon one of the canals running
into the Grand Canal. Gondolas lighted by lanterns, or by torches held
by servitors, passed constantly backwards and forwards beneath his
window, and by leaning out he could see the passing lights of those on
the Grand Canal. Snatches of song and laughter came up to him, and
sometimes the note of a musical instrument. The air was soft and balmy,
and he felt no inclination for sleep.

Francis thought over what his father had said of the probability of
war, as he sat at his window, and wished that he were a couple of years
older and could take part in the struggle. The Venetian fleet had
performed such marvels of valour, that, in the days when military
service was almost the sole avenue to distinction and fortune, the
desire to take part in a naval expedition, which promised unusual
opportunities of gaining credit and renown, was the most natural thing
possible for a boy of spirit.

Francis was a well built lad of nearly sixteen. He had, until he left
London when about twelve years old, taken his full share in the rough
sports which formed so good a training for the youths of England, and
in which the citizens of London were in no way behind the rest of the
kingdom. He had practised shooting with a light bow and arrows, in
company with boys of his own age, in the fields outside the city walls;
had engaged in many a rough tussle with light clubs and quarterstaffs;