met the folk of
the people (_gente del popolo_), as he called them; and where, though
himself a person of civil condition, he discoursed freely with the other
guests, and ate of their humble but relishing fare. He was known among
them as Sior Tommaso; and they paid him a homage, which they enjoyed
equally with him, as a person not only learned in the law, but a poet of
gift enough to write wedding and funeral verses, and a veteran who had
fought for the dead Republic of Forty-eight. They honored him as a most
travelled gentleman, who had been in the Tyrol, and who could have
spoken German, if he had not despised that tongue as the language of the
ugly Croats, like one born to it. Who, for example, spoke Venetian more
elegantly than Sior Tommaso? or Tuscan, when he chose? and yet he was
poor,--a man of that genius! Patience! When Garibaldi came, we should
see! The _facchini_ and gondoliers, who had been wagging their tongues
all day at the church corners and ferries, were never tired of talking
of this gifted friend of theirs, when, having ended some impressive
discourse or some dramatic story, he left them with a sudden adieu, and
walked quickly away toward the Riva degli Schiavoni.

Here, whether he had dined at the cook-shop, or at his more genteel and
gloomy restaurant of the Bronze Horses, it was his custom to lounge an
hour or two over a cup of coffee and a Virginia cigar at one of the many
caffes, and to watch all the world as it passed to and fro on the quay.
Tonelli was gray, he did not disown it; but he always maintained that
his heart was still young, and that there was, moreover, a great
difference in persons as to age, which told in his favor. So he loved to
sit there, and look at the ladies; and he amused himself by inventing a
pet name for every face he saw, which he used to teach to certain
friends of his, when they joined him over his coffee. These friends were
all young enough to be his sons, and wise enough to be his fathers; but
they were always glad to be with him, for he had so cheery a wit and so
good a heart that neither his years nor his follies could make any one
sad. His kind face beamed with smiles, when Pennellini, chief among the
youngsters in his affections, appeared on the top of the nearest bridge,
and thence descended directly towards his little table. Then it was that
he drew out the straw which ran through the centre of his long Virginia,
and lighted the pleasant weed, and gave himself