"The beautiful señorita!" he cried. "My lady of Venice!"
He was beside her in an instant.
"Giusippe! Giusippe!" exclaimed the girl. "Can it really be you?"
"Yes, yes, señorita! It is I. Ah, that I should see you again! What a joy it is. Surely four or five years must have passed since first you came to paint in Venice."
"Fully that, my little Giusippe. It is five years this June. You have a good memory."
"How could I forget you, señorita; and the pictures, and your kindness! But I have left Venice, you see. Yes. Even now I am on my way to America."
"To America? Oh, Giusippe, Giusippe! And that is why you have discarded your faded blouse, and the red tie which you wore knotted round your throat. Alas! I am almost sorry. And yet you look very nice," she added kindly. "But to leave Venice!"
"It is best," Giusippe explained gently. "I have my way to make, and I can do it better in your country, my señorita."
"Perhaps. Still, I am sorry to have you leave your home. It is like taking sea shells away from the sands of the shore."
"And yet you would want me to be a man and succeed in life. Think how you yourself worked for success."