But Finn sat silent and absent.
Some time after, the friends were walking, one evening, through the streets and along the canal, where the boats lay in a row and, on the other side, an old castle stood, with broken windows and charming green roofs.
“Let us sit here for a bit,” said Finn.
They sat on the quay. The water flowed black and angry beneath them. The boats rocked and bumped and swayed. Hans drummed with his cane against the embankment-wall:
“Is it like this in Venice?” he asked.
“No,” said Finn. “It’s finer there. Because one’s strange to it.”
Hans laughed gaily and Finn said nothing more and looked down into the water.
Then they suddenly heard a shout.
They both sprang up and ran and, when they had come some distance, they saw a child on the point of drowning: