Page:The Popular Magazine v72 n1 (1924-04-20).djvu/8

 the great doors leading from open terrace to lounge.

Suddenly Captain Jimmy heard the scraping of a chair over the marble tiles and saw that the girl who had been waiting for some one had sprung to her feet and was rushing forward.

“Tommie! Oh, Tommie! Wait! Is it really you?” she called and at the sound of her voice the sea nymph halted, looked around and hurriedly advanced to meet her. Jimmy could not help overhearing their words, for they came immediately to the table by his own and seated themselves.

“I can't see why on earth I didn't find out you were in Venice,” declared the waiting girl. “Just to think of it! You stopping at the Hotel Danieli all the time, and—I read all the hotel lists from day to day and so did Dick, but we didn't see your name. Isn't it a pity! And we are leaving to-morrow morning!”

The arrival glanced around, then bent for- ward and whispered something to her friend, who listened and then said, in a shocked voice: “Tommie! You don't mean that is the reason why I didn't see your name on the”

“S-s-sh!” warned the girl called Tommie and again they discussed something in whispers until, glancing up, the first girl said, “Oh, there goes Dick now, and he's looking for me. Come on. Let's stop him.”

Captain Jimmy felt a distinct sense of loss when they arose and hastened away. He sat hoping they would return, and considering “Tommie.” The three things uppermost in his mind were that she was the most charming girl he had ever seen, that the conversation indicated that she and her friend had been schoolmates at some girls' college, and that she was from the South, as evidenced by her speech.

Presently the girl and her friend appeared, arm in arm, and, followed by the man, crossed the terrace and boarded Tommie's launch, which at once swung out from the landing, made a flashing sweep as if to display its power and grace and then, quickly gathering racing speed, tore away over the canal with two bow waves like jeweled fans, and disappeared.

Distinctly disappointed, Captain Jimmy lost all interest in the beautiful terrace, called the waiter, paid his bill and asked if it was necessary to take a gondola to reach St. Mark's Square, that being, he had read, the center of Venetian attractions. Having learned that the journey could be made on foot he retraced his steps to the gondola landing and traversed a lane so narrow that by stretching out his arms he could touch the walls on either side, and then reached a brilliantly lighted street where the shops were still open, and laughing, strolling crowds sometimes made his progress difficult. He paused on a canal bridge, admired what is declared to be the ugliest Byzantine church in Venezia, entered a still more crowded and narrower street and finally halted in a great archway and looked out entranced upon the square which is one of the most beautiful and famous and romantic in existence.

The moonlight magnified its six hundred feet of length and three hundred of width into long distances and glittered upon the superb façades and mosaics of the cathedral; made the Campanile majestic and austere like a gray needle piercing the sky; pricked out the great rows of columns and pillars bordering the entire square, and distracted attention from the blazing shops and cafés with their swarm of human idlers. For the moment Captain Jimmy was overwhelmed with the burden of traditions surrounding this moonlit space, and then, pulling himself together, strolled toward one of the most brilliantly lighted cafés, curiously read the historic name of “Florian,” and choosing a table which had just been vacated on the outer edge of the pavement, seated himself. Two men who occupied a small table almost at his elbow in the crowded space abruptly stopped speaking, and his eyes happening at the moment to be downcast to adjust his legs to the intricacies of the ornate table base, saw that one of the men's feet had quickly reached across and pressed the foot of his companion as if adjuring him to caution.

Captain Jimmy looked up at them and found their eyes fixed on his. Then, having nothing to conceal and but little interest in what they might think of him, he looked away and casually lighted his pipe.

“Will the signor favor me with a match from his box?” he heard one of the men say in Italian, but thinking that the request had not been addressed to him, made no response. He was made aware of its direction only when he heard one of the men say, “Pshaw! You are needlessly alarmed, Pietro. He doesn't understand our tongue