"Was Dandolo the leader?" asked Andrea, sitting bolt upright in his excitement, and forgetting the pigeon which, loosed by the sudden movement, escaped, and soared, with a quick spiral curve, to the blue sky.
Regretfully, the child watched the flight, but settled back as Paolo went on:
"Old though he was, he was the hero of the whole expedition. Even the French had no general to compare with him. And tell me, both of you, did you ever see a picture of a Doge of Venice?"
"I have!" Maria cried; "and he wore a coat all red and gold and a cap—"
"Si! si!" the old man interrupted, almost beside himself with excitement; "those were his robes of state, but in armor, and on horseback before the walls of Constantinople! Ah, then he must have been magnifico!"
"On horseback, did you say?" repeated Andrea, and his eyes wandered to the bronze steeds the manes of which glistened in the sunlight.
Paolo nodded, "And I have no doubt but that the one great Dandolo rode was like those very horses; and, by the way, my lad, did you ever hear that they were part of the spoils he brought from the East in triumph and placed above our own St. Mark's?"
Without allowing Andrea time to comment on the amazing fact, he went on, still more excitedly;
"It is said that Dandolo, great as he was, would not have been able to take the city had it not been for a messenger pigeon that brought him most important information. Nor is that all the part the brave birds played at this great time, for it was no other than some of our own fine homers that conveyed the first news of glorious victory to Venice. Hence it was, that when the Doge returned, in triumph, he issued a proclamation that the pigeons should evermore be held in reverence."
Paolo paused, well-nigh exhausted by his enthusiasm, and, reaching over, laid his withered hand on the birds that still cooed contentedly in Maria's lap.