Luigi's case--a piece of news which his informer was
convinced would end the projected intrigue of the
young gondolier, then and there and for all time,
Vittorio laughed so loud and so long, and so merrily,
that he lost, in consequence, two fares to San Giorgio,
and came near being reprimanded by the Gastaldo
for his carelessness.

That was why late one afternoon (I was painting
the sunset glow) just as Loretta reached the edge of
the quay on her way home, a young fellow, in white
duck with a sash of dark red silk binding and hanging
from his waist and a rakish straw hat tipped over his
handsome face, shot his gondola alongside mine and
leaned over to whisper something in Luigi's ear. And
that was why the girl in her long black shawl stopped,
and why Luigi immediately changed gondolas and
made for the quay, and why they all talked together
for a moment, the girl flashing and the boy beaming,
and that was why, too, they all three disappeared
a moment later in the direction of the high rookery
where lived the baffled, love-sick Francesco, his anxious
father, the much-talked-about mother, and the
Rose of the Shipyards.

In a garden where the soil is so rich that a seedling
of five--a mere slip--blooms into flower before
a foolish old painter can exhaust the subjects along
the canal, it is not surprising that a love affair reaches
its full growth between two suns. Not since the day