"Vetturini is the plural of vetturino, in Italian," said Mr. George, "and not vetturinos."
"But I am not speaking Italian," said Rollo; "I am speaking English."
"True," said Mr. George.
At this stage of the conversation Mr. George and Rollo arrived at the end of the bridge across the Arno, which Mr. George had to pass over in going to his gallery. This bridge is a very ancient one, and is quite a curiosity, as it is built massively of stone, and is lined with a row of shops on each side, so that in passing over it you would think it was a street instead of a bridge, were it not that the shops are so small that you can look directly through them, and see the river through the windows on the back side.
These shops are occupied by jewellers, who keep for sale the mosaic pins, bracelets, and earrings, for which Florence is so famous, and great numbers of these mosaics, as well as various other kinds of jewelry, are exposed to view in little show cases that are arranged in a curious manner, on small counters before the windows, so that any one can see them all in passing along.
On reaching this bridge, Rollo concluded to stop, and look at the mosaics, and so his uncle left him and went on alone.
As Rollo was standing at one of the little shop windows a few minutes after his uncle had left him, a man dressed in a blue frock, and with a sort of woollen comforter of bright colors about his neck, came up to him, and asked him in French whether the party that he belonged to did not want a carriage to go to Rome. Rollo perceived at once that the man was a vetturino.
"I don't know but that we do," said he. "Have you got a carriage?"
"Yes," replied the vetturino; "I have got a large and very nice carriage, and four excellent horses."