"That one there—that will do. Let us catch it, Zorzi."
In his impatience he waved his hand, to sign to the boat to stop.
"Call out to them to wait for me, Zorzi!"
The gondolier, heated and dripping, cried out to the man at the sail. The gondola flew like a canoe in a regatta.
"Bravo, Zorzi!"
But Stelio was panting, too, as if he were in pursuit of fortune, some happy aim, or the certainty of a kingdom.
"We have won the flag!" laughed the gondolier, rubbing his burning palms. "What foolishness!"
The movement, the tone, the good-humor, the astonished faces of the fishermen leaning over the rail, the reflection of the red sail in the water, the cordial odor of fresh bread from a neighboring bake-shop, the smell of boiling pitch from a dock-yard, the voices of workmen entering the arsenal, the strong emanations from the quays, impregnated with the odor of the old rotten vessels of the Serene Republic, the resounding blows of the hammer on the vessels of the new Italy—all these rude and healthful things aroused a wonderful joyousness in the heart of the young man, who laughed aloud for very gladness.
"What do you wish?" demanded the older of the fishermen, bending toward the ringing laughter his bearded bronzed face. "What can I do for you, Signor?"