One morning Andrea set out for the Arsenal, which is, as every one
acquainted with the city knows, one of the show places of Venice. In the
olden days, when the Venetians were first in the art of shipbuilding, it
was the working spring of their strength, their enemies looking upon
the stronghold with envious eyes as symbolizing her supremacy over the
Adriatic, and even now there was always a large number of strangers in its
vicinity.
Andrea approached and took his station, near one of the two great lions
that guard the entrance. He was accosted by a well-dressed Austrian:
"What have you there, my boy? Anything to sell?"
"No, signore," was the quick reply. But Andrea, intent upon his mission,
felt vaguely disturbed, liking neither the looks of the man nor the tone of
his inquiry.
Silently and with evident envy the man watched the pigeon's joyous spiral;
then he again addressed the boy:
"Come, now, what will you take for him! Twenty lire! [Footnote: A lire in
ordinary times is worth about twenty cents.] A. hundred? You must admit
that is a high price for a pigeon when it would be so easy a matter to
replace him. There are hundreds of pigeons in Venice."
"He is not for sale!" Andrea answered curtly, wishing the man would leave
him alone.
The stranger turned sullenly, not liking to be baffled, muttering under his
breath, "That bird would be worth any amount of money to me if I could but
secure him for the War Department in Vienna!"
As for Chico his troubles for the day had only begun.
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