pigeons waiting for the crumbs, they would sit with him, sharing his frugal
meal. When they had finished, he would sometimes take them for a ride in
his shabby gondola on the Grand Canal, and on the way they would beg to
stop for just a moment at the famous well with two porphyry lions. Andrea
was tall enough to clamber by himself after the manner of young Venetians,
and nothing would do but Paolo must lift Maria, so she, too, would proudly
straddle one of the fierce figures. There they would sit while the old
caretaker would count the pigeons bathing and splashing in the water.

But, better than anything else, the children liked to snuggle close to
their companion while he told them wonderful stories until it was time for
him to go back to work.

While they watched with fascinated eyes, he would trace a diagram in the
pavement to show how the Grand Canal, in its wanderings, exactly describes
the letter "S." His eyes would glow as he told of the grandeur of Venice
in the time of the Doges, or cause the children to shudder at gruesome
accounts of how, in the olden time, the prisoners were thrown from the
Bridge of Sighs, into the water below.

Perchance, he would tell of the wedding of the Adriatic and call Venice the
Bride of the Sea, or give a vivid account of how the body of St. Mark was
brought there in the long ago.

In fact, his tales were so realistic, that it almost seemed as if he must
have been an eyewitness of every incident he narrated.