"I know. And it was you who brought it to me, Giusippe. The portrait I painted of you was exhibited in America and when I later sold it to an art dealer there it brought me a little fortune; but the fame it brought was best of all." The girl put her hand softly on the lad"s shoulder.

"Oh, senorita, how glad I am!"

"I had a feeling that you would bring me luck the morning when I first saw you in the square near St. Mark"s. Do you remember? And how you stood watching me paint? Do you recall how we got to talking and how I asked if I might do the portrait of you? You laughed when I suggested it! And then you came to the hotel evenings when you were free, and I sketched in the picture. It seems but yesterday. In the meantime you entertained me by telling me of Venice and its history. What a little fellow you were to know so much!" The girl smiled down at him. "And now let me hear of yourself. What of your parents?"

"Alas, senorita, they have died. I am now quite alone in the world. It is for that that I felt I must leave Venice. It is sad to be alone, senorita."

"So it is, Giusippe. No one knows that better than I." Impulsively she slipped a hand into the small Venetian"s. "But I must not take you from your friends. See, we have kept them waiting a long time."

"I want you to meet them, senorita. They are from your country, and they have been kind to me."

"Then surely I must meet them."

With a shy gesture the boy led her forward.

"Miss Cartright is from New York, Mr. Cabot," said Giusippe simply.

"Long ago when I was a little lad I knew her in Venice, and she was good to me and to my parents."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I KNEW HER IN VENICE"]

"It was five years ago," added Miss Cartright. "I went there to paint."

"And little Giusippe, perhaps, made your stay as delightful as he has made ours," Mr. Cabot said.

"Yes. I was all by myself, and knew no one in Venice. Furthermore, I spoke only a word or two of Italian. Giusippe was a great comfort. He kept me from being lonesome."

"And you are now staying in Paris?" questioned Mr. Cabot.

"Yes, I have been here with friends studying for nearly a year; but I am soon to return home. And now, before I leave you, I want to hear all about Giusippe"s plans. What is he to do?"

Little by little the story was told. Mr. Cabot began it and continued it until Giusippe, who thought him too modest, finished the tale.

"You see, senorita, Mr. Cabot, Miss Jean, and good Hannah will not themselves tell you how kind they have been, so I myself must tell it,"

said the boy. "And now I go with them to find a position in America that by hard work I may some time be able to repay them for their goodness to me."

Miss Cartright nodded thoughtfully.

At last she said:

"If you should come to New York I want to see you, Giusippe. There might be something I could do to help you. Anyway, I should want to have a glimpse of you. And if you do not come and Mr. Cabot does, perhaps, since he knows how fond of you I am and how much I am interested in your welfare, he will come and tell me how you are getting on."

She drew from her purse a card which she handed to the lad.

"Perhaps I"d better take it, Giusippe," Mr. Cabot said in a low tone.

"It might get lost."

Then there was a confusion of farewells, and the girl rejoined her friends, who had gone through into the next room.

It was not until she was well out of ear-shot that any one spoke. Then Jean, who had been silent throughout the entire interview, exclaimed:

"Oh, isn"t she beautiful! Isn"t she the very loveliest lady you ever saw, Giusippe?"

And Giusippe, answering in voluble English mixed with Italian, extolled not only the fairness but the goodness of his G.o.ddess.

Even Hannah agreed that the American girl was charming, but regretted that she had not come from Boston instead of New York.

Uncle Bob alone was silent. Turning the white card in his fingers he stood absently looking at the door through which Miss Ethel Cartright had pa.s.sed.

CHAPTER VI

UNCLE BOB AS STORY TELLER

Uncle Bob and his party remained in France several weeks, and during that time visited the old French cathedrals with their interesting windows; and saw in the Louvre much gla.s.s of early French make as well as many beautiful Venetian mirrors with all sorts of unique histories.

One mirror was that famous seventeenth century possession of Marie de Medici, a looking-gla.s.s set in a frame which represented a fortune of over thirty thousand dollars. This mirror was of rock crystal combined with cut and polished agates, and around it was a network of enameled gold. Outside this inner frame was a larger one formed entirely of precious stones. Three large emeralds as well as smaller diamonds and rubies adorned it.

"Probably," said Mr. Cabot, "this is but one of many such examples of ancient luxury. Unfortunately, however, most of these extravagant affairs have been melted up by avaricious monarchs who coveted the gems and gold. Such ornate mirrors are a relic of the Renaissance when each object made was considered an art work on which every means of enrichment was lavished. I do not know that I think it any handsomer than are the simpler mirrors with their Venetian frames of exquisitely carved wood, of which there are many fine specimens in the Louvre."

"Is the mirror that was given by the Republic of Venice to Henry the Third in the Louvre?" asked Giusippe.

"No, that is in the Cluny Museum. You have heard of it, then?"

"Oh, yes; often in Venice. I have seen pictures of it, too," Giusippe replied.

"We must see it before we leave France," declared Mr. Cabot. "It was, as you already know, presented to Henry the Third on his return from Poland. It is set in a wonderfully designed frame of colored and white beveled gla.s.s, and the decoration is of alternating fleur-de-lis and palm leaves, which are fastened to the frame by a series of screws. It is quite a different sort of mirror from that of Marie de Medici."

"I should like to see it," Jean said.

"You certainly shall."

How rich France was in beautiful things! One never could see them all.

One of the sights that especially interested Jean and Hannah was the imitation gems displayed in the Paris jewelry shops. These exquisite stones, Uncle Bob told them, were made in laboratories by workmen so skilful that only an expert could distinguish the manufactured gems from the real, the stones conforming to almost every test applied to genuine jewels. They were not manufactured, however, for the purpose of deceiving people, but rather to be sold to those who either could not afford valuable stones or did not wish the care of them. The imitation pearls were especially fine, and by no means cheap either, as Hannah soon found out when she attempted to purchase a small string.

But many as were the wonderful sights in France, the continent had soon to be left behind, and almost before the travelers realized it the Channel had been crossed and they stood upon English soil. As Uncle Bob"s time was limited they went direct to London, and when once there one of the first things that Giusippe wished to see were the mosaics in St. Paul"s Cathedral of which he had heard so much. So they set out. On reaching the church Giusippe regarded it with awe. How unlike it was to his well loved St. Mark"s. And yet how beautiful!

"These mosaics, like the ones we shall see at the Houses of Parliament, were not first made and then put up on the walls as were those such as Salviati and other Venetians shipped from Venice," explained Mr. Cabot.

"No, these were made directly upon the walls, the pieces of gla.s.s being pressed into prepared areas of cement spread thickly upon the brickwork of the building. The designs are simple, large and effective figures being preferred to smaller and more intricate patterns. Millions of pieces have been used to make the pictures, and if you will notice carefully you will see that they have the rough surface which catches the light as do all the early Venetian mosaics."

Giusippe nodded.

"There must also be some fine old gla.s.s windows in London," he speculated. "Aren"t there, Mr. Cabot?"

"Yes, some varieties that you did not have in Venice, too," declared Uncle Bob. "You see other people did invent something, Giusippe. Here in England in some of the older houses there are windows made of tiny pieces of white gla.s.s leaded together; people were not able at that time to get large sheets of gla.s.s such as we now use, and I am not sure that these windows made of small leaded panes were not prettier. Then you will find other windows made from what we call bull"s eye gla.s.s.

These bull"s eyes were the centers or waste from large discs of crown gla.s.s after all the big pieces possible had been cut away. As most gla.s.s comes now in sheets crown gla.s.s is little made, and therefore we find bull"s eyes rare unless manufactured expressly to imitate the antique roundels."