A GALA DAY
At last the new Campanile was completed. When the historic old bell tower had fallen that morning in July, the people had been stunned and had given way to such grief as only Italians feel over the loss of a thing of beauty.
It had fallen at nine-thirty in the morning, and when the Town Council met that evening, it had been at once decided that immediate steps be taken to erect a new tower, "dov'era, com'era" (where it was and as it was). And in this all Italy concurred. The first stone had been laid on St. Mark's day, April 25, 1903.
Slowly the graceful tower had risen from the confused mass of debris at its base, no effort being spared to make it as strong and beautiful as possible to conceive. Three thousand piles had been used in the foundation, and almost every fragment of the old had been utilized in the effort to reproduce, as nearly as possible, the much-loved structure. Carefully the shattered pieces of bas-reliefs had been fitted together by trained artisans, the figure of Venice on the east walls had been completely restored, while one favorite group of the Madonna and Child had been pieced from sixteen hundred fragments: the bells had been recast, and when this gala day dawned, the same gold angel surmounted the top of the new Campanile that had looked protectingly over the city for generations.
What wonder that Venice was beside herself with joy, and that great festivities had been arranged to celebrate the occasion—on St, Mark's day, 1912?
The city was filled with visitors; the little steamers and motor-boats chugged right merrily along the canals, laden with sight-seers, while the gondoliers reaped a rich, harvest from the crowds of strangers.
Among those who came to attend the festivities was the children's uncle, Pietro Minetti. He was the elder brother of Giovanni, and was an important personage (at least in his own estimation) for had he not left the little Venetian home years before and become a citizen of the world? Andrea and Maria were wild with delight when they heard he was coming, and speculated much as to their rich uncle, for, of course, he must be rich as every one was out in the great world.
And at first sight it seemed that he must be even richer than they had dreamed, so elegant did he appear in his checked trousers and starched shirt. His mustache was waxed, and he walked with a swagger as he jauntily swung a cane.
All at once the little home on the side canal seemed poorer and shabbier than ever, and Luisa couldn't help wishing the smells of fish and garlic from the shop below were not quite so strong.
But though Pietro looked somewhat superciliously at the plain surroundings, after the strangeness wore off he proved to be a most entertaining guest, with his stories of the great cities which he had visited. He had been as far as London, and the children drew close in order that they might not lose a single syllable of his wonderful tales.