"I thought all gondolas must be black," Edith objected. "A procession of black gondolas would not be very magnificent."
"It is the law now that all gondolas must be black," Rafael explained, "because in olden times so many nobles wasted their fortunes in decorating their gondolas extravagantly with rich carvings, gold ornaments, and gorgeous draperies. You can see that such a procession, reaching from here to the Lido port, would be a splendid sight.
"There must be many rings out there," he added.
Edith had listened, charmed with the sound of so much splendor. "Let us go to the Lido for a sea bath," she said; "perhaps we can find a ring."
Rafael shook his head. "The last ring was thrown into the water more than a hundred years ago," he said. "The sands have covered them all too deeply by this time."
Then he pointed to the four bronze horses which stand over the central doorway of the cathedral. "They are the only horses in our whole city," he said. "They are almost two thousand years old, and have travelled hundreds of miles, by sea and land.
"It is said that they first stood on a triumphal arch in Rome, but they were taken to Constantinople by the Emperor Constantine, where they were kept many hundreds of years. Dandolo, a Doge of Venice, conquered the city about seven hundred years ago, and brought the horses to Venice as a sign of his victory.
"They were placed over the door where they now stand, and have been there ever since, except for a visit of eighteen years to Paris, to please the Emperor Napoleon."
"See how they paw the air," said Edith. "They look as if they were eager to be off again to the ends of the earth."
"No," said Rafael, "we Venetians love those bronze horses. No one will ever take them away from us again.