ded, as he flung himself down among
the cushions. "Do they treat thee well at thy traghetto?"

"Eccellenza, yes; but I am scarce older than the others; it is the young
ones who make us trouble; they keep not the Mariegole, and it is only
the old one may depend upon."

"_Davvero_, the world is changed then! It used to be good to be young."

"Eccellenza, yes; when I myself was not old, and his excellency also had
no beard."

"If age and wisdom might be traded for the time of youthful pranks,"
said the Veronese with twinkling eyes, "I doubt if there were wisdom
enough left in Venice to cavil at the barter! Yet thou and I, having
wisdom thrust upon us by these same beards, if trouble come to thee, or
too soon they put thee at the gransiere service, we will remember this
day passed together."

"Eccellenza, thanks; the gransiere has not much beside his beard to keep
him warm, and the time draws near," the old man answered with pleasant
Venetian insouciance.

"Tell me," said the Veronese, turning to the younger man, "why do you
young fellows make Venice ring with your scandals? You are cutting off
your own 'liberties.'"

"Yes, signore." The gondolier hesitated, glancing doubtfully at the
artist's sumptuous attire, which might have indicated a state much
greater than he kept; for the Veronese was famed throughout Venice, in
quarters where he was better known, for an unfailing splendor of costume
which would have made him at all times a model for the pictures he loved
to paint. Recently, for bad conduct, the gondoliers had been gradually
forfeiting their licenses, or "liberties," as they were called in
Venice, and the thought crossed the young fellow's mind that this
splendid stranger was possibly one of those government officials who
were charged with the supervision of the confraternities of the
traghetti.

"It is the first time I have the honor of conducting his Excellency; he
is perhaps of the Provveditori al Comun?" These officials collected the
government taxes and were viewed with jealous eyes by the gondoliers.

"Nay; I am Paolo Cagliari; I belong to a better craft. But please
thyself, for there is much talk of this matter."

"Signore, one must live!" the young fellow exclaimed, with a friendly
shrug of his shoulders and a gleam of his white teeth; for it was easy
to make friends with the genial artist. "And between the governors and
the _provveditori_ one may scarce draw breath! One's bread and onions--"
he