" 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.
CHAPTER II
ANDREA'S WISH
Of all the old man's tales, there was not one the children liked so well as
the story of St. Mark's pigeons.
It was strange that, as soon as he began to talk about them, there would be
heard the whirr, whirr of wings, and in an instant, countless birds would
light on every possible ledge, nestling among the statuary and filling the
air with the soft music of their coos.
On this special day of which I am going to tell you, three of the very
prettiest flew straight into Maria's lap and settled there, to her delight,
with an air of proprietorship, while one particularly striking fellow
perched inquisitively on Andrea's shoulder.
"See, Paolo," the boy cried, "isn't he--GREAT?" This was a new word that he
had caught from one of the American tourists and he was immensely proud
of having mastered its pronunciation. As he spoke, he pointed to the fine
glossy wings and the bill that arched so delicately at the point.
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