CHAPTER XVI.
SUNSET ON THE GRAND CANAL.
Venice, and sunset on the Grand Canal!
Nowhere else in all the world is there such a sight. For two miles thismagnificent waterway; the main thoroughfare of the most wonderful cityin the world, winds in graceful curves, with red-tiled, creamy whitepalaces on either hand. At all times it is a source of wonder anddelight to the visitor, but at sunset and in the gathering purpletwilight it is the most entrancing.
So thought Dick Merriwell, as he lay amid the piled-up cushions of agondola that was propelled by a gracefully swaying, picturesquelydressed gondolier, one beautiful evening.
Brad Buckhart and Professor Gunn were in the gondola with Dick, andthey, also, were enchanted and enraptured with the scene.
The mellow rays of the sinking sun touched the shimmering surface of thewater, shone on the windows of the palaces, gleamed on the hangingbalconies of marble, and made the Bridge of the Rialto seem like anivory arch against the amber-turquoise sky.
There were many other gondolas moving silently along here, there,everywhere. On this great thoroughfare there was no rumble and roar oftraffic. It was a street of soft silence, as Venice is the City ofSilence.
"In a short time, boys," said the old professor, in a modulated voice,that seemed softened by the influence of his surroundings, "you shallsee Venice at her best, for the moon will rise round and full. When youhave seen Venice by moonlight, you may truthfully say you have beheldthe most beautiful spectacle this world can show you."
"She ain't so almighty bad by sunlight," observed Buckhart.
"Ah, but time has worked its ravages upon her," sighed Zenas sadly."Once even the dazzling sun of midday could show no flaw in her beauty,but now it reveals the fact that, although she is still charming, herface is pathetically wrinkled. Ah! those splendid days of old--those daysof her magnificence and grandeur--gone, gone forever!"
In truth, Zenas was profoundly moved as he thought of the past greatnessand present state of this City of the Sea.
Still Dick remained silent. He was watching the sunset. Between him andthe western sky seemed falling a shower of powdered gold, and yet thiswonderful, golden light was perfectly transparent. Beneath the balconiesand in the narrower canals the shadows were growing deeper. Just thenDick thought that, no matter what disaster, what suffering, what sorrowmight come to him in life, just to be there in Venice that night atsunset was joy and pleasure and reward enough to overbalance all else.
"Pard, are you dreaming?"
Dick turned his eyes toward the loyal Texan without moving his head.
"Yes, yes--dreaming," he murmured.
"Of what?"
"Like the professor, of the old days--of the founding of this wonderfulcity by a mere handful of refugees, who fled before the devastating,barbarian army of Attila, well named the 'Scourge of God.' How littlecould they have dreamed--those terror-stricken refugees--of the wonderfulfuture of this city of a hundred islands! I am dreaming of Venice at theheight of her glory, of the power of the Doges, of the senators in theirsplendid robes, of battles and conquests, of riches and splendor, ofpompous pageants, of Ascension Day, when amid the roar of cannon, theshouts of the people, and the throb of music, the Doge in his barge ofgold flung a golden ring into the blue waves, announcing the wedding ofVenice and the sea. Yes, I am dreaming--dreaming!"
"And while you dream, pard," said Brad, "dream some of the dark deeds,the crimes, the Bridge of Sighs, the Council of Ten----"
A strange, half-startled exclamation came from the gondolier. He hadpaused, clutching his oar, leaning forward--apparently paying attentionto their words for the first time. He could speak a little English, butProfessor Gunn addressed him in Italian:
"What's the matter, Reggio?"
"The boys, signor."
"What of them?"
"They talk too much. It is not well. They should be more careful."
"Careful? I do not understand you, Reggio. Why should they be careful?"
"I hear them speak of the Ten," whispered Reggio, leaning forward. "Itis very dangerous, signor. Nothing should be spoken."
"Still I do not understand you," persisted the amazed old pedagogue."The time of the Council of Ten is past forever. There is now no longerdanger that a citizen of Venice may be secretly denounced to thecouncil, secretly tried and secretly executed. We know that at one timethe despotism of this council was so great that even the Doge himselfbecame a mere instrument in the hands of that body of tyrants. Now,however, there is no council----"
The agitation of Reggio had increased as Gunn was speaking, until now itbecame absolutely painful to behold. He was trembling violently, andwith shaking hand he entreated the old man to be silent.
"You know not, signor--you know not!" he whispered. "Beware what you say!If you continue to talk, I must decline to carry you in my gondola--youand the boys. We must part. I am a poor man. I need the money you pay mefor my services. But most I need my life, not for myself alone, but forTeresa, my sister."
"Man," said Zenas, "you must be crazy! What harm could speaking of----"
"I pray you no more, signor--no more!"
"Well, wouldn't that beat you!" said Buckhart, who understood a littleItalian, and had succeeded in getting the drift of the talk. "What doyou think of it, pard?"
"I do not know what to think," confessed Dick, quite as much surprisedand bewildered as Professor Gunn. "It is most remarkable. The man seemsfrightened. He actually pretends that we may place his life in peril byour words."
"It may be some kind of a trick, Dick."
"What kind of a trick can it be?"
"I don't know, but I'm sure watching out constant for tricks by thesedagoes. They're a slippery set, and they seem to think travelers arefair and legitimate game for plucking."
"Not all of them, Brad."
"No, not all; but you know Naples is called 'the city of thieves,' andwe certain found it that. This fellow has appeared a heap decent, and----"
"Just so. I've taken a liking to him. He's positively handsome, and heseems honest. I've urged the professor to retain him while we remain inVenice. But now----"
"We can't even discuss the history of the city in his presence."
All effort to induce Reggio to explain proved unavailing. He declined toexplain, and he continued to urge them--in whispers--to talk of somethingelse.
"I suppose we had better humor him," said Gunn. "I can't understand it,but just to please him we'll drop it now."
"I sure judge he has a streak of the daffy in him," nodded Brad.
The silver moon rose wondrously fair. The evening was cool, still notcold. The professor and the boys drew some wraps about their shoulders,having come prepared for the change in the atmosphere.
In the moving gondolas lights began to twinkle and gleam. Soft laughterfloated over the water.
Reggio's oar moved silently in the water, and the gondola glided throughalternating patches of moonlight and shadow, glory and gloom.
Beneath the moon, Venice was indeed at her best. The defects of age,seen in the broad light of day, were now hidden by a silver veil. Inplaces lights gleamed through the casements.
"Pard," said Buckhart, after a long silence, "I'm a whole lot glad youwere expelled from Fardale!"
"What's that?" exclaimed Dick, surprised. "Glad I was expelled?"
"Sure!" nodded the Texan grimly. "If you hadn't been expelled, we'd notbe here together now."
"That's true enough."
"Of course I'm plenty bitter on Chet Arlington, but I opine his day iscoming. The professor will look out for that, all right. You'll returnto old Fardale in triumph after----"
"We'll return together, Brad."
"Yes, we'll return together--after we've seen a right good lot of thisamazing old world, and I allow you'll be received back with highacclaim. I can see it now. I can see big Bob, Obediah, Chip, Gardner,Darrel, Flint, Smart, and all the rest of them, welcoming you back. Justto think of it stirs me some, yo
u bet! There'll be something doing atFardale that day, Dick--you hear me gently gurgle! Then back to thediamond, the gridiron, the gymnasium--back to all things we love! And theyarns we'll have to tell! The things we'll have seen! Whoop! I'm surebusting just to think of it!"
Professor Gunn, who had been listening to the words of the boys, nowobserved:
"Youth and anticipation of the glories of the future! Two of the mostjoyous things in this old world, boys. Do you know, I'm glad myself thatDick was expelled. Remarkable, eh? Astonishing and shameful confession,hey? Well, it's the truth. Why am I glad? Because it brought me thecompanionship of you two lads, something I needed. Yes, I needed it. I'ma pretty old man, boys, and I find myself inclined to look backwardinstead of forward. Instead of thinking of the joys to come, I find I'minclined to think of the pleasures past. Now, that's bad--very bad. Whena man gets to living in the past, he's in his decline--he's beginning todecay--he's pretty near the end of the road. It's natural for progress toconstantly look forward. Looking backward means retrogression. You boyshave seemed to arouse in me the looking-forward spirit which I needed.I, too, think of the future and the pleasures to come. Therefore youhave done me no end of good. Hum! ha! Ha! hum! I hope I've notinterfered with your enjoyment of this glorious night by my littlelecture."
"What's the matter with Reggio?" questioned Dick in a low tone. "Hestill seems excited. He keeps looking back, and----Why does he send thegondola darting in here so suddenly?"
They had turned with a sudden swing from the broad canal to go speedingswiftly into a very dark and very narrow passage between high buildings.
"Why did you turn in here, Reggio?" demanded the professor, in Italian.
"Signor, it is best," was the half-spoken, half-whispered answer."Question me not, but trust me. Soon we will be again on the GrandCanal."
"I certain believe the man is some bughouse," said Buckhart. "He's sureacting and talking a heap queer to-night."
"I think he is perfectly trustworthy," declared Dick; "and he's thehandsomest gondolier in all Venice."
"You picked him out, pard, because he was handsome and graceful."
"No; because I believed I could read honor and sincerity in his face. Ibelieved he could be trusted."
"If he's daffy, he can't be trusted to any great extent."
Out of the canal they sped, Reggio's body swaying rhythmically as hepropelled the craft. He seemed almost feverish in his haste. Soon theyswung again into another narrow channel, where it was very dark, Reggioturning his head to look round just as he did so. What he saw, ifanything, caused him to increase his efforts.
They began to feel a touch of the almost fierce anxiety which had seizedupon their gondolier. He seemed fleeing before something of which he wasin mortal terror. In the moonlight, before they were sent rushingthrough this second dark channel, Dick had obtained a full view of theItalian's face. It was pale and set, and his eyes seemed glowing withstrange terror.
What thing was this from which Reggio fled like a hunted man? What perilpursued him, seen by him alone?
"Reggio!" spoke Dick.
"Silence! silence! silence!" implored the man at the oar.
"He sure has gone luny of a sudden!" whispered Brad. "There is no otherexplanation, pard."
"I don't like his behavior myself," confessed the professor. "He'sgetting me nervous. You know there are banded thieves in Venice, whoprey on foreigners. Now----"
"There can be no connection between Reggio's singular conduct and thethieves of Venice," said Dick impatiently. "If he intended to rob us, hewould not first excite our suspicion by his behavior."
"I judge that's correct," nodded the Texan. "I certain allow it's just aplain case of daffy on Reggio's part."
Once more they glided out upon the moon-lighted surface of the GrandCanal, and the professor drew a deep breath of relief.
"This is good enough for us, Reggio," he said. "You don't have to takeus through those dark alleys to amuse us."
But the man addressed did not seem to hear. He swung the craft into theshadow of the palaces at one side of the canal, still sending it forwardwith unusual speed. Other gondolas he avoided or passed with greatskill. It was evident they attracted more or less attention by theirsurprising haste at that hour.
"I think, boys," said Zenas Gunn, "that it might be well for us toreturn to our rooms and dismiss Reggio."
But Dick's interest and curiosity had been aroused. Behind the peculiarbehavior of the man he believed there was something worth understanding.He scented a mystery, and mysteries always aroused and interested him.
"I couldn't think of giving up this pleasure in the open air for ourgloomy old rooms," he said.
"Nor I, pard," joined in Brad. "I slept a whole lot this forenoon, sothat I'd not be at all sleepy to-night. Night certain is the time toenjoy Venice. I opine I'll get into bad habits about hours while we'rehere; but I can't help it."
"You boys are tyrants!" exclaimed the professor. "Who is the masterhere, may I ask? Am I taking you round, or are you taking me round?"
Dick laughed, and assured the professor that he was the one in supremeauthority, which seemed to relieve and satisfy the old man. In truth,the boys did just about as they pleased, but they succeeded in this bymaking Zenas believe he was the one who wished to do the things thatinterested them most. In carrying this out, Dick was far more cleverthan Brad.
"Reggio seems to be behaving better," said Merriwell.
"Correct," nodded Buckhart. "Mebbe it was a fit he had. It seems gonenow."
"Though he keeps looking back."
Once more Dick spoke to the gondolier, asking him why he had seemed toflee through those narrow and dark channels, and why he kept turning hishead to stare behind them.
Reggio paused and leaned forward.
"Ah!" he said, in a very low voice, "you don't-a know. I--I feel-a it inda air." He spoke in broken English now.
"What did you feel in the air?"
"Death!" whispered the gondolier. "You don't-a know. You not see-a heemfollow us. He follow. That why I hurry vera much."
"Whoop!" muttered Brad. "That's a heap fine! So we had a race withdeath, did we? Well, partner, if that isn't daffy talk, what do you callit?"
"Do you mean that we were really and truly pursued by anything, Reggio?"demanded Dick.
"I mean-a it. Death he follow us. But mebbe he not-a after us. He followno more now."
Dick Merriwell Abroad; Or, The Ban of the Terrible Ten Page 16
