"Do you see, just above the horizon line, something white that seems to move in a burst of light? Half close your eyes, in order to see farther. By an uncommon piece of luck Giambolo is visible to-day. You cannot help seeing it. I can even see it with my naked eye. But of course I know where to look for it."
The rigid German, ankylosed at his glass, suddenly straightens up.
"Yes, yes, I saw it very well. It is all white, and there is something shining."
"That is it," answers the man of Torcello, satisfied.
Then everyone took his turn. The women all saw it at the very first glance; they even gave detailed descriptions of it. The student alone could not see Giambolo. He confessed it with genuine humiliation, and was looked upon with pitying disdain by all the others.
"What is it like?" he asked of everyone. And everyone gave his own description. There was a slight vapour at the top. A streak at the right, said some, some said at the left; there was nothing of the kind, according to the pater familias who had had the distinction of being the first to see Giambolo.
The unfortunate student tried again and again, and went on exclaiming in despair: "I can see nothing! I can see nothing!"
The Italian shrugged his shoulders with a placid smile, the meaning of which obviously was that some people had not the gift.
"But," cried the exasperated youth, "what is Giambolo, will you tell me? Is there any such thing, really, as Giambolo?"
A unanimous cry of horror went up at this blasphemy. How could one see a thing that did not exist? When half a dozen human beings have in good faith seen Giambolo and are willing to swear before God that they have, no further discussion is possible.