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 good boat slid away into 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 several 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' bagnio, 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 to 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 young girls and women 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 dare 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 buildings.
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.