ate, it was clear that it must have been some most adverse fate
which had sent this well-born stranger crashing down in amongst the
lower classes of the people.

"'As we have said, this poor youth was lying in front of the pillars of
the Palace, with his head resting on his right arm, gazing motionless
far out to seaward with a fixed gaze, from which thought was absent.
One would have thought that life had left him, and that the death-agony
had turned him into a stone image, had he not sighed deeply now and
then, as in the most unutterable sorrow. This was probably from the
pain in his left arm, which he had stretched out on the pavement, and,
being wrapped in blood-stained rags, seemed to be badly hurt.

"'All labour was at rest, the noise of business was silent; all Venice
was afloat in boats and gondolas, going to meet and welcome the
much-prized Falieri. Thus the unfortunate youth in question was sighing
forth his sufferings in uncomforted helplessness. But even as his weary
head sank back on the pavement, and he seemed near to fainting, a
hoarse, grating voice called, several times:

"'"Antonio! my dear Antonio!"

"At length he raised himself into a half-sitting position, and, turning
his head towards the pillars of the Palace, from behind which the voice
seemed to proceed, he said, in a faint, weary voice, scarcely audible:

"'"Who is it who calls me? Who has come to cast my body into the sea?
For it will soon be all over with me."

"Then an old, old woman, coughing and wheezing, and leaning on a stick,
came hobbling up to him, and, as she leant over him, broke out into a
repulsive, unpleasant kickering and laughing.

"'"Silly boy!" she whispered; "going to die here, just when golden
good-fortune is dawning upon you? Look before you; look before you
there! That is all I ask of you! Look at those flames that light
up the evening sky. They are _zecchini_ for you. But you must
eat, dear Antonio; you must eat and drink. It is nothing but
hunger--fasting--that has brought you so low, and laid you down here
on the cold stones. Your arm is better now; better again now."

"Antonio recognised in this old woman the strange beggar wife, who was
always sitting on the steps of the Franciscan Church, asking alms of
the pious, always chuckling and laughing as she did so; and to whom he
had often, from a strange indescribable inward inclination, thrown a
hard-earned _quattrino_: he had not a great many to spare.

"'"Lea