He accepted and placed the double fare in silver in my palm. Then he
gave a whistle and from behind the corners came trooping enough
swashbuckler students to swamp my gondola. I let in just enough to
fill the seats and pushed off, leaving several standing on the stone
steps cursing me and everything and everybody.
As my boat slid away in the fog and headed on our course, I glanced
back and saw the three barca-loads following in my wake.
There was much muffled talk, and orders from some one in charge to
keep silence. But there was passing of strong drink, and then talk,
and from it I gathered that these were all students from Pascale's,
out on one of those student carousals, intent on heaven knows what! It
was none of my business.
We shipped considerable water, and some of the students were down on
their knees praying and bailing, bailing and praying.
At last we reached the Murano landing. All got out, the barcas tied
up, and I tied up, too, determined to see what was doing. The strong
drink was passed, and a low, heavy-set fellow who seemed to be captain
charged all not to speak, but to follow him and do as he did.
We took a side street where there was little travel and followed
through the dark and dripping way, fully a half-mile, down there in
that end of the island called the sailors' broglio, where they say no
man's life is safe if he has a silver coin or two. There was much
music in the wine-shops and shouts of mirth and dancing feet on stone
floors, but the rain had driven every one from the streets.
We came to a long, low, stone building that used to be a theater, but
was now a dance-hall upstairs and a warehouse below. There were lights
upstairs and sounds of music. The stairway was dark, but we felt our
way up and on tiptoe advanced to the big double door, from under which
the light streamed.
We had received our orders, and when we got to the landing we stood
there just an instant. "Now we have him--Gian the hypocrite!" whispered
the stout man in a hoarse breath. We burst in the doors with a whoop
and a bang. The change from the dark to the light sort of blinded us
at first. We all supposed that there was a dance in progress of
course, and the screams from women were just what we expected; but
when we saw several overturned easels and an old man, half-nude, and
too scared to move, seated on a model throne, we did not advance into
the hall as we intended. That one yell we gave was all the noise we
made. We stood there in a bunch, just inside the door, sort of dazed
and uncertain. We did not know whether to retreat, or charge on
through the hall as we had intended. We just stood there like a lot of
driveling fools.
"Keep right at your work, my good people. Keep right at your work!"
called a pleasant voice. "I see we have some visitors."
And Gian Bellini came forward. His robe was still tucked up under the
blue sash, but he had laid aside his black cap, and his tumbled gray
hair looked like the aureole of a saint. "Keep right at your work," he
said again, and then came forward and bade us welcome and begged us to
have seats.
I dared not run away, so I sat down on one of the long seats that were
ranged around the wall. My companions did the same. There must have
been fifty easels, all ranged in a semicircle around the old man who
posed as a model. Several of the easels had been upset, and there was
much confusion when we entered.
"Just help us to arrange things--that is right, thank you," said Gian
to the stout man who was captain of our party. To my astonishment the
stout man was doing just as he was bid, and was pacifying the women
students and straightening up their easels and stools.
I was interested in watching Gian walking around, helping this one
with a stroke of his crayon, saying a word to that, smiling and
nodding to another. I just sat there and stared. These students were
not regular art students, I could see that plainly. Some were
children, ragged and barelegged, others were old men who worked in the
glass-factories, and surely with hands too old and stiff to ever paint
well. Still others were women and young girls of the town. I rubbed my
eyes and tried to make it out!
The music we heard I could still hear--it came from the wine-shop
across the way. I looked around and what do you believe? My companions
had all gone. They had sneaked out one by one and left me alone.
I watched my chance and when the Master's back was turned I tiptoed
out, too.
-------------------------------------
When I got down on the street I found I had left my cap, but I dared
not go back after it. I made my way down to the landing, half running,
and when I got there not a boat was to be seen--the three barcas and my
gondola were gone.
I thought I could see them, out through the mist, a quarter of a mile
away. I called aloud, but no answer came back but the hissing wind. I
was in despair--they were stealing my boat, and if they did not steal
it, it would surely be wrecked--my all, my precious boat!
I cried and wrung my hands. I prayed! And the howling winds only ran
shrieking and laughing around the corners of the building.
I saw a glimmering light down the beach at a little landing. I ran to
it, hoping some gondolier might be found who would row me over to the
city. There was one boat at the landing and in it a hunchback, sound
asleep, covered with a canvas. It was Gian Bellini's boat. I shook the
hunchback into wakefulness and begged him to row me across to the
city. I yelled into his deaf ears, but he pretended not to understand
me. Then I showed him the silver coin--the double fare--and tried to
place it in his hand. But no, he only shook his head.