sound. "Viva l'Italia!" cried a voice from the bridge, and "Viva
l'Italia!" echoed from all the gondolas.

Rafael waved his cap in the air. "Viva l'Italia!" he shouted in his
boyish voice, while his heart beat fast with the enthusiasm of the
moment. It seemed to his imagination that the singers were repeating
the words of the stranger; that they were telling of the glory of
battle, and of a life of service for one's country.

It was of Italy they sang--not of Venice--of Italy, and of Italy's
king. "Viva l'Italia! Long live the King!" he shouted with the
others; and at that moment he felt that he must become a soldier of
the king, to live or die for Italy.

After the singing was over and the gondolas had begun to disperse,
Rafael pushed his way down the canal; and at the steps where he had
embarked, the stranger rose to leave the boat. As he did so, he
stooped to place a coin in the boy's hand. "With thanks," he said. "I
have had an evening to remember."

But Rafael pushed his hand away. "I never carry people for money,
Signore," he said proudly.

The coin dropped from the American's hand to the bottom of the boat.
"For Italy, then," he said. "There are many in your country who need
it."

The boy let his boat drift with the tide, while he thought over the
words of the stranger.

He and his mother were all that was left of an old Venetian family.
Like many others, they had almost no means of support. They rented two
of the upper floors of their house to people poorer than themselves;
and might have rented the whole house to some of the foreigners who
often asked for it, but the mother held to it with a great love. It
was a link that kept alive the memory of the past, when her family was
one of importance, and Venice was a rich and powerful city.

She would rather eat polenta and fish every day, if thereby she could
keep the fine house as it had always been, rich with old furniture and
the paintings of great artists.

She had taught her son to speak French and English, and no guide in
the city knew every detail of its history so well as he. "Our history
is our pride," she often said, with much emphasis, and the boy felt
that she was right.

At last Rafael picked up the coin and put it into his pocket; then he
took up the oar and pushed the boat back to his own mooring-post.

He found his mother, and told her that he was tired of his life of
idleness. "I shall become a soldier of the king," he said.

"Ah,"