The stranger continued, "Your good Doge Dandolo had a powerful navy when he led the Venetians across the Mediterranean to conquer the islands of Candia and Cyprus."
Rafael nodded. "Si, Signore," he said. "There were many at home who held the city safe while he was away," he added, "and there was need enough of brave men then, both at home and abroad."
"Venice was a rich and powerful state in those days," said the stranger. "Now she has little left but her beauty, and that will fall to ruin, as the great bell-tower in the Piazza fell not long ago. A man likes to fight for something more than beauty."
Rafael nodded again. He liked this stranger who spoke so easily of the early life of Venice.
Just then the boat slipped into a nook under the bridge, where it was safe from the sweep of the gondolas which crowded near, and the two became silent in watching the approach of the barge filled with musicians and singers.
This barge was surrounded by a solid mass of gondolas, closely wedged together, each gondolier trying to push his boat as close as possible, so that his patrons might see and hear well.
Suddenly red lights flared up from the bridge and flooded everything with radiance. Palace fronts shone with a magical beauty; crimson banners waved from Moorish windows; statues and columns stood out clearly and asked boldly to be admired.
Rafael looked at his companion. "Did you ever see a more beautiful sight?" he asked.
But he could get no satisfaction from the stranger. "Beauty is not everything," was his answer; and Rafael racked his brain to think what more could be desired in this wonderland of marble and sky and water.
Suddenly the music from the barge swelled into a great volume of sound. "Viva l'Italia!" cried a voice from the bridge, and "Viva l'Italia!" echoed from all the gondolas.