“‘Where did you lose it?’ said the Chief. ‘Ah! the poet. Do not worry. In two days please come again.’
“When he returned, the Chief said:—
“‘Please take some tobacco.’ It was from his own box!
“Then the Chief explained that in addition to being a poet, the man was also a member of the Borsainoli (literally translated, ‘the takers’), from which our own word ‘Bourse’ is derived.
“The same old swindlers still, only our stock-brokers do not stop at our tobacco-boxes,” added the Professor, laughing.
“Then Lundy goes on to explain that whatever these fellows succeeded in stealing they must bring to the Chief’s office within three days. If the article was reclaimed within fifteen days, the thief received only a small sum, and the article was returned to its owner. If it was never called for, then it belonged to the thief. If he was detected in the act, or failed to return it to the office, he was punished.
“‘But why do you permit this?’ continues Lundy, speaking to the Chief.
“‘To encourage an ingenious, intelligent, sagacious activity among the people,’ replied the officer, with perfect seriousness.
“See, I translate literally,” said the Professor, with his finger on the line, throwing back his head in laughter.
But the day was not over for the Professor. We must go to the Church of the Frari, the Professor going into raptures over the joyous Madonna and Saints by Bellini, while I had a little rapture of my own over a live, kneeling mother, illumined by a shaft of light which fell on her babe clasped to her breast,—a Madonna of to-day, infinitely more precious and lovely than any canvas which ages had toned to a dull smokiness. But then the Professor lives in the past, while I have a certain indefensible adoration for the present—when it comes to Madonnas.