“That is capital, Giuseppi.  This gondola is all well enough for my father, but she is very heavy.  This evening we will row over to Lido and look at her.”

A few minutes later Mr. Hammond came down.  Beppo and his son took off their jackets, and in their snow white shirts and black trousers, set off by the red scarf and a red ribbon round their broad hats, took their places on the bow and stern.  Mr. Hammond sat down on the cushions in the middle of the boat, and with an easy, noiseless motion the gondola glided away from the stairs.  Francis, with a little sigh, turned away and strolled off for a couple of hours’ work with the preceptor, with whom he had continued his studies since he came to Venice.

This work consisted chiefly of learning various languages, for in those days there was little else to learn.  Latin was almost universally spoken by educated men in southern Europe, and Greeks, Italians, Spaniards, and Frenchmen were able to converse in this common medium.  French Francis understood, for it was the language in use in the court and among the upper classes in England.  Italian he picked up naturally during his residence, and spoke it with the facility of a native.  He could now converse freely in Latin, and had some knowledge of German.  At the same school were many lads of good Venetian families, and it was here that he had first made the acquaintance of Matteo Giustiniani, who was now his most intimate friend.

Matteo, like all the young nobles of Venice, was anxious to excel in military exercises, but he had none of the ardour for really hard work which distinguished his friend.  He admired the latter’s strength and activity, but could not bring himself to imitate him, in the exercises by which that strength was attained, and had often remonstrated with him upon his fondness for rowing.

“It is not seemly, Francisco, for a gentleman to be labouring like a common gondolier.  These men are paid for doing it; but what pleasure there can be in standing up working that oar, till you are drenched with perspiration, I cannot understand.  I don’t mind getting hot in the School of Arms, because one cannot learn to use the sword and dagger without it, but that’s quite another thing from tugging at an oar.”

“But I like it, Matteo; and see how strong it has made my muscles, not of the arm only, but the leg and back.  You often say you envy me my strength, but you might be just as strong if you chose to work as I do.  Besides, it is delightful, when you are accustomed to it, to feel the gondola flying away under your stroke.”

“I prefer feeling it fly away under some one else’s stroke, Francisco.  That is pleasant enough, I grant; but the very thought of working as you do throws me into a perspiration.  I should like to be as strong as you are, but to work as a gondolier is too high a price to pay for it.”