The tone was ingratiating, but resenting the intrusion, Paolo looked around and caught an expression that belied the smooth words, and made him instinctively distrust the stranger who had accosted him.
He did not answer, and the man pursued: "No wonder, when you have so fine a bird. May I ask for what particular purpose you are training him?"
"Only for a boy's pleasure," was the short reply. Paolo immediately surmised that this was he of whom Andrea had told him.
As he rose to go, the man went on, still more suavely: "By the way, I have a very special reason why I should like a carrier pigeon." He lowered his voice. "And am prepared to pay any amount for him; will you not set a price?"
Paolo emphatically shook his head. "He can't be bought! I tell you the bird is not for sale!" And with that the old caretaker walked away.
He was troubled, and the remainder of the time before the steamer sailed walked the narrow streets, too much disturbed over the incident to notice the women in the doorways making lace and the children sitting on the ground beside the narrow footpaths, their fingers busy knitting or stringing beads.
He did not know that the Austrian followed him, and that, on reaching the quay, the intruder chose a seat on the other side of the steamer. It is no wonder that the artists go wild over the harbor, dotted as it is with picturesque sails of yellow, blue, or red. Just beyond is Palestrina, equally interesting, and known as the "narrowest town on earth," while a little farther on the steamer skirts along manifold vegetable gardens, in the midst of settlements whose simple homes are gay in their coloring of pink, yellow, red, or white.
By the time the Lido was reached, the sun was low in the heavens, and soon the lagoon was before them, bright in the roseate rays. After this it was not long before Venice came in sight, more lovely than ever in the first twilight.
With a sigh Paolo stretched his limbs, cramped by sitting so long in one position. He was getting old, he reflected, and found even a few hours' excursion tiring in the extreme. As he made his way towards the Piazza, he decided positively that not one syllable would he breathe to the children of his encounter with the Austrian.
"It would only worry them, and what's the use?" he reflected. "It's old Paolo who must guard Chico"—and he shook his head—"I fear it will be a hard thing to do."