The Lion of Saint Mark | Page 6

from the crowded canals in the gondola, with
Giuseppi, the son and assistant of his father's gondolier, to take an oar,
for he had thoroughly mastered the difficult accomplishment of rowing
well in a gondola; but he only did this when far out from the city, or
when the darkness of evening would prevent his figure from being
recognized by any of his acquaintances, for no Venetian of good family
would demean himself by handling an oar. Francis, however,
accustomed to row upon the Thames, could see no reason why he
should not do the same in a gondola, and in time he and his companion
could send the boat dancing over the water, at a rate which enabled
them to overtake and distance most pair-oared boats.
After breakfast next morning he went down to the steps, where Beppo
and Giuseppi, in their black cloth suits with red sashes round their
waists, were waiting with the gondola in which Mr. Hammond was
going out to Malamocco, to examine a cargo which had the day before
arrived from Azoph. Giuseppi jumped ashore.
"I have heard of just the gondola to suit you, Messer Francisco, and you
can get her a bargain."
"What is she like, Giuseppi?"
"She belongs to a man out at Lido. She was built for the race two years
ago, but her owner fell sick and was unable to start. He has not got
strong again, and wants to sell his boat, which is far too light for
ordinary work. They say she is almost like an eggshell, and you and I
will be able to send her along grandly. She cost four ducats, but he will
sell her for two."
"That is capital, Giuseppi. This gondola is all well enough for my father,
but she is very heavy. This evening we will row over to Lido and look
at her."
A few minutes later Mr. Hammond came down. Beppo and his son
took off their jackets, and in their snow white shirts and black trousers,
set off by the red scarf and a red ribbon round their broad hats, took

their places on the bow and stern. Mr. Hammond sat down on the
cushions in the middle of the boat, and with an easy, noiseless motion
the gondola glided away from the stairs. Francis, with a little sigh,
turned away and strolled off for a couple of hours' work with the
preceptor, with whom he had continued his studies since he came to
Venice.
This work consisted chiefly of learning various languages, for in those
days there was little else to learn. Latin was almost universally spoken
by educated men in southern Europe, and Greeks, Italians, Spaniards,
and Frenchmen were able to converse in this common medium. French
Francis understood, for it was the language in use in the court and
among the upper classes in England. Italian he picked up naturally
during his residence, and spoke it with the facility of a native. He could
now converse freely in Latin, and had some knowledge of German. At
the same school were many lads of good Venetian families, and it was
here that he had first made the acquaintance of Matteo Giustiniani, who
was now his most intimate friend.
Matteo, like all the young nobles of Venice, was anxious to excel in
military exercises, but he had none of the ardour for really hard work
which distinguished his friend. He admired the latter's strength and
activity, but could not bring himself to imitate him, in the exercises by
which that strength was attained, and had often remonstrated with him
upon his fondness for rowing.
"It is not seemly, Francisco, for a gentleman to be labouring like a
common gondolier. These men are paid for doing it; but what pleasure
there can be in standing up working that oar, till you are drenched with
perspiration, I cannot understand. I don't mind getting hot in the School
of Arms, because one cannot learn to use the sword and dagger without
it, but that's quite another thing from tugging at an oar."
"But I like it, Matteo; and see how strong it has made my muscles, not
of the arm only, but the leg and back. You often say you envy me my
strength, but you might be just as strong if you chose to work as I do.
Besides, it is delightful, when you are accustomed to it, to feel the
gondola flying away under your stroke."

"I prefer feeling it fly away under some one else's stroke, Francisco.
That is pleasant enough, I grant; but the very thought of working as you
do throws me into a perspiration. I should like to be as strong as you
are, but to work as a gondolier is too high a price to