That evening, Francis crossed the lagoon in the gondola with Giuseppi, to inspect the boat he had heard of.  It was just what he wanted.  In appearance it differed in no way from an ordinary gondola, but it was a mere shell.  The timbers and planking were extremely light, and the weight of the boat was little more than a third of that of other craft.  She had been built like a working gondola, instead of in the form of those mostly used for racing, because her owner had intended, after the race was over, to plank her inside and strengthen her for everyday work.  But the race had never come off, and the boat lay just as she had come from the hands of her builder, except that she had been painted black, like other gondolas, to prevent her planks from opening.  When her owner had determined to part with her he had given her a fresh coat of paint, and had put her in the water, that her seams might close up.

“I don’t like parting with her,” the young fisherman to whom she belonged said.  “I tried her once or twice, and she went like the wind, but I got fever in my bones and I am unlikely to race again, and the times are hard, and I must part with her.”

Francis and Giuseppi gave her a trial, and were delighted with the speed and ease with which she flew through the water.  On their return Francis at once paid the price asked for her.  His father made him a handsome allowance, in order that he might be able to mix, without discomfort, with the lads of good family whom he met at his preceptor’s and at the schools of arms.  But Francis did not care for strolling in the Piazza, or sitting for hours sipping liquors.  Still less did he care for dress or finery.  Consequently he had always plenty of money to indulge in his own special fancies.

As soon as the bargain was completed, Giuseppi took his place in the old gondola, while Francis took the oar in his new acquisition, and found to his satisfaction that with scarcely an effort he could dart ahead of his companion and leave him far behind.  By nightfall the two gondolas were fastened, side by side, behind the gaily painted posts which, in almost all Venetian houses, are driven into the canal close to the steps, and behind which the gondolas belonging to the house lie safe from injury by passing craft.

“I have bought another gondola, father,” Francis said the next morning.  “She is a very light, fast craft, and I got her cheap.”

“I don’t see what you wanted another gondola for, Francis.  I do not use mine very much, and you are always welcome to take it when I do not want it.”

“Yes, father, but you often use it in the evening, and that is just the time when one wants to go out.  You very often only take Beppo with you, when you do not go on business, and I often want a boat that I could take with Giuseppi.  Besides, your gondola is a very solid one, and I like passing people.”