The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1898-04-10

niue suspicion. IL occurred to me that the
admirable wind had done me a second SER
wee PERFECTLY possible now TO write to
my editor and to say am sitting at the
feet of Blanca hearing news of the man
from Rome" And so 1 listened with ready
ears when Blanca spoke again.
Why should you interest yourself In Or
so Cicogna?" she asked. Have Won nor
heard what cruel things he has done at
the arsenal? My father cannot sleep at
night for thinking of them. He fears that
the workmen will lose patience and XIII
me man who has brought such trouble
upon them. Why do you wish for news of
him?"
turned the question as adroitly as pos
sible.
Your fathers sympathies are with the
men. Signorina?"
How could they be otherwise, Signore?
Is he not their best friend? For thirty
years now they have called him father.
WIN he cease 20 befriend them at the word
of a stranger? Do not think that Though
he lose all else in the world, 1t will not be
the affection of his children"
Then he does not love the man from
Rome?" '
Her dark eyes flashed at the suggestion.
l said to myself that If the fate of Orso
Ceosna lay in her hands a few hours
would carry me out of Venice
thought! Yet what can he do? He is the
servant of the government and must obey
All DAY long he asks the men to be pa
tent, and they listen to him Oh. Signore
II Orso Cicogna is killed my father will
be ruined, and we shall live I'm Venice no
more"
There were tears of affection and nifty
IN her eyes. 1t was sweet employment to
comfort her-then, and later in the dav.
when frav
news, l found her at sunset still upon the
balcony. Admirable wind of night! II
played gently with the curls of Blanca
tossing them about in its embrace until
they seemed TO touch my face like rain of
silken threads. No longer did the baIus-
trade thrust carved obstacles between ms
She on her side, resting her pretty arms
upon the tme-worn marble, /, on mine.
bending down so that my lips could almost
orush her ears, made that swift and sud
den friendship. possible only In a land
where sunshine is in the heart of the peo-
pie and love in their eyes Pretty Biancai 7
said then that her hair was of the unrest
gold, that her hand was the softest in all
Italy.
Your father has not returned little
one?"
She shook her head
He is very late tonight" she said;
sunset should bring him back to me
Nina set supper an hour ago. and vet he
has not come. fear TO think about it Sig
more; l fear to ask myself what has kept
him."
l took her hand in mine and laughed at
her foreboding
What could keep him but the business
OF the dayY Was not at the arsenal an
hour ago to learn that all was well? 1t is
the night which makes you fear, little one.
know the feeling well-a grey light upon
the waters and grey light above That is
the time for dreaming of misfortunes
which never happen. Tomorrow when the
sun shines you will forget it all Let us
talk of other things-of our friendship.
You will remember that, Bianca?"
She answered me prettily, letting her
hand rest in mine and forgetting to draw
back her face even when my Ips touched
the curls of her golden hair.
I could not forget that she said; you
will be the friend of my father also. Sig
noreY There is no one In Venice who does
not love my father; there is no one so clev
er as he. All the great ships which sail
out of Venice are his werk He is strong
er than the King, for he has made his
country great"
/ had not the heart to rebuke her child
ish idea of Italy with a word of naked
truth; and, for the matter Of that. the
cleverness of old Silvestro, who was one
OF the constructors at the arsenal was
proverbial among those who build ships.
Indeed said l, lit will be great hon
our and privilege to know your father. If
| mistake not, yonder is his gondola.
heard the plash of an oar some minutes
ago."
1t was full dark now. but the light from
the windows of the canal enabled us 10
distinguish the black shape of a gondola
shooting to the steps of Silvestro's house
| Little Blanca gave cry of joy when she
saw 1t and ran instantly to the room to
| welcome her father. l saw her cast her
arms about his neck, and exclaimed upon
| that restricting custom which denies a
similar greeting TO mere friendship 1t
| would be sweet l thought, to hold Blanca
| as old Silvestro then held her And
was sure that she could not be Is years old
There was but one lamp upon the supper
| table at which father and daughter SAT
and It was shaded. None the less il en-
abled me to observe closely the features
of the shipbuilder for whom Venice had so
| great love. A man who had attained
the allotted span, 1 said to myself: a man
| with a white beard so long that il cover
| ed his vest as he sat; a man of rugged
force, of face slightly Greek in mold, vet
| feminine In the kindness of the eve A
silent man, too, answering Bianca's chat
| ter with monosyllables; a man upon whom
the cares of life pressed heavily so that he
ate with no appetite. but when he had
tasted of the dishes set lovingly before
him, came upon his balcony to drink a
| glass of red wine and to smoke the cursed
cheroot which Austria still sends TO Ven
ice. 1t was then that Blanca presented
me to him-with a pretty childish formal
| ity which made us friends a. once.
"Slgnore, here is my>fathsr: he can cn-
swer all your questions. Father. here is
my English friend"
The old man laughed, but saw that HE
eyes were reading me closely. 1 was glad
that pretty Blanca introduced me as her
friend, and FASTENED to speak to old ST.
vestro of my business.
Il am correspondent of an English nous
| paper" said l, land came to Venice 10
learn all about the troubles at the arsenal
1t seems that good fortune has made me
the neighbor of one who is the best of m
! thorities. 1t is not necessary to come IN
| Venice to know the fame of Silvestro Cel-
81, Signore,'
He laughed again. siencing me with a
| gesture of the hand.
Truly" he exclaimed, ''it was not moo
essary to come to Venice TO understood
our trouble at the arsenal. Have Won no.
! laborers in your own country? Assure,li,,