"Mad as a march hare," cried Stefano.
"Mark me," said Antonio. "That girl shall never marry old Beppo—my word for it. She hates him."
"She'll elope with some noble, then."
"To be cast off to wither when he is tired of her charms? No! the bridegroom for Zanetta is a gondolier."
"With all my heart," said Stefano. "But come, comrades, it is no use waiting here. Let us to our gondolas, and row for St. Marks. You'll come with us, Antonio."
"Not I—my occupation's gone."
"How so?"
"I have sold my gondola."
"Sold your gondola."
"Ay—that was my word."