Beset by anxious thoughts
he crossed the room, took the basket in his hand and held it to his ear.
Not a sound! Genuinely frightened, he regretted bitterly that he had
ever wished the bird trained. Why had he not been content with him as he
was--the most beautiful bird in St. Mark's Square?
Turning the basket about, he looked it all over carefully. There was a
slight stir. He breathed a sigh of relief, then joyfully caught his breath
as he suddenly discovered two bright eyes looking straight at him through
one of the cracks.
"Chico!" he cried joyfully; "Chico! Are you all right?" Placing his ear to
the wicker prison, he caught a faint answering "coo," and a minute later
the very tip of the bird's bill found its way through one of the cracks. It
was heartrending, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that Andrea
restrained himself from tearing off the cover of the basket and feeding
his hungry pet, but he had given his promise, so he was obliged to content
himself with holding the basket close to his cheek and murmuring soft words
into the responsive ears of the prisoner.
So Paolo found him. Andrea started guiltily as the old caretaker stepped in
the door, but drew himself up proudly at the sharp inquiry:
"Is it possible that you are feeding Chico?"
"No," was the quick reply, "I am only talking to him. Surely there isn't
any harm in that!"
"No harm at all," the old man answered; "and now I propose to take him to
the Rialto and there give him his freedom, while you wait here and see
if he knows enough to come home.
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