“I know not, Signori, whether you are used to hearing untruths, that you caution me so much not to deal with them; but we of the Lagunes are not afraid to say what we have seen and done, for most of our business is with the winds and waves, which take their orders from God himself.  There is a tradition, Signori, among us fishermen, that in times past, one of our body brought up from the bay the ring with which the Doge is accustomed to marry the Adriatic.  A jewel of that value was of little use to one who casts his nets daily for bread and oil, and he brought it to the Doge, as became a fisherman into whose hands the saints had thrown a prize to which he had no title, as it were to prove his honesty.  This act of our companion is much spoken of on the Lagunes and at the Lido, and it is said there is a noble painting done by some of our Venetian masters, in the halls of the palace, which tells the story as it happened, showing the prince on his throne, and the lucky fisherman with his naked legs rendering back to his highness that which had been lost.  I hope there is foundation for this belief, Signore, which greatly flatters our pride, and is not without use in keeping some among us truer to the right, and better favored in the eyes of St. Anthony than might otherwise be.”

“The fact was so.”

“And the painting, excellent Signore?  I hope our vanity has not deceived us concerning the picture, neither?”

“The picture you mention is to be seen within the palace.”

“Corpo di Bacco!  I have had my misgivings on that point, for it is not common that the rich and happy should take such note of what the humble and the poor have done.  Is the work from the hands of the great Tiziana himself, eccellenza?”

“It is not; one of little name hath put his pencil to the canvas.”

“They say that Tiziano had the art of giving to his work the look and richness of flesh, and one would think that a just man might find, in the honesty of the poor fisherman, a color bright enough to have satisfied even his eye.  But it may be that the senate saw danger in thus flattering us of the Lagunes.”

“Proceed with the account of thine own fortune with the ring.”

“Illustrious nobles, I have often dreamed of the luck of my fellow of the old times; and more than once have I drawn the nets with an eager hand in my sleep, thinking to find that very jewel entangled in its meshes, or embowelled by some fish.  What I have so often fancied has at last happened.  I am an old man, Signore, and there are few pools or banks between Fusina and Giorgio, that my lines of my nets have not fathomed or covered.  The spot to which the Bucentoro is wont to steer in these ceremonies is well known to me, and I had a care to cover the bottom round about with all my nets in the hope of drawing up the ring.  When his highness cast the jewel, I dropped a buoy to mark the spot—­Signore, this is all—­my accomplice was St. Anthony.”