Pep is what Venice
needs!" And he chuckled to himself at the thought of motor-cycles on St.
Mark's Square.
Neither Giovanni nor Luisa had any patience with such talk, but the
children edged nearer, and their eyes grew bigger as they asked him eager
questions in regard to the marvelous things he had mentioned.
"Have you ever seen horses?" Andrea ventured timidly; "I mean real horses,
not pretend ones like those on the top of St. Mark's?"
"Horses!" he repeated, bursting into so loud a laugh that Maria shrank
away, half frightened; "horses! Why, they're so old-fashioned that no one
cares for them any more. They're quite too slow for the twentieth century!"
Andrea's head swam--horses old-fashioned! What kind of a strange world was
it outside of Venice? All at once his childish air castles came tumbling
down. But before he could question further it was time for bed, and with
his imagination roused to the utmost he tossed uneasily until he fell
asleep to dream he was racing with the wind in a strange kind of car with
the Devil himself as driver.
The exercises were to begin at ten o'clock the next morning, and the Piazza
was fairly packed with people hours before that time. Thanks to Paolo our
little group had a good place to view the proceedings in a certain musty
alcove of St. Mark's, and there they sat cramped through what seemed to
Maria like interminable hours.
As for St. Mark's Square, even Pietro had only words of praise for its gala
appearance: from the three flagstaffs opposite the church fluttered the
colors of Italy.
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