"'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.
"'"Leave me in peace, crack-brained creature!" he said. "I suppose it is fasting, more than the hurt, which makes me weak and miserable. I haven't earned a single quattrino for the last three days. I wanted to go over to the monastery, to see if I could get a spoonful or two of soup; but the comrades are all away. Not a soul would take me into his boat for compassion. So I have fallen down here; very likely I shall never get up again."
"'"He-he-he-he!" snickered the old woman: "why despair at once and lose heart? You are hungry and thirsty. There's help at hand for that. Here's some nice dried fish, bought this morning at the Zecca. Here's lemon-juice, and a nice white loaf. Eat, my son; eat and drink, my son! and then we'll have a look at the wounded arm."