WHEN Uncle Bob heard of Jean's adventure he lost no time, you may be sure, in hunting up Giusippe Cicone. A note was sent to Murano asking that the lad call at the hotel; and as the following day chanced to be a festa day the glass works were closed and Giusippe presented himself directly after breakfast. He was although poorly clothed, and had he had no other claim to Mr. Cabot's good will than his frank face that would have won him a welcome. Perhaps added to Uncle Bob's there was, too, a measure of the artist's joy in the beautiful; for Giusippe was handsome. Thick brown hair clustered about the well-formed head; his eyes were of soft hazel; and into his round olive cheek was steeped the rich of the southern sun. More than all this, he was a well bred lad—manly, , and proud. When Mr. Cabot began to thank him for his service to Jean the boy made light of what he had done and once more refused to accept any reward.  
Uncle Bob's curiosity was aroused.
 
Never before had he met an Italian who would not take money when it was offered him.
 
"Perhaps you would be willing, young man, to tell us more about yourself," said he at last. "You work in the glass factory, you say. Have you been long there?"
 
Giusippe smiled, showing two rows of dazzling white teeth.
 
"So long, señor, that I cannot remember when I was not there. And before me was my father, and my grandfather; and before that his father; and so on back for years and years. There was always a Cicone at Murano. For you must know, señor, that glass-making has ever been the great art of Venice. When paintings began to take the place of the glass then came the height of fame for Venetian glass. For you will remember that for many years before artists could paint people made pictures out of bits of glass, and in this way represented to those who had no books scenes from the Bible or from history. Then wonderful painters were born in Italy and they crowded out the , who had decorated the churches, palaces, and public buildings. The making of glass mosaics died out and it was then that the Venetian artisans turned their attention and their skill to the making of other glass things—, mirrors, drinking cups, and . In fact," went on Giusippe, "there soon became so many glass houses in Venice that the Great Council feared a terrible fire might sweep the island, and in 1291, with the exception of a few factories for small articles, all the glass houses were to the island of Murano a mile distant where, if fire came, no destruction could be done to the city of Venice itself. Those factories which were allowed to remain had to have a space of fifteen paces around them. By the decree of the Council the other glass houses were torn down."
 
"And it was thus that your great-great-great-great-great-grandfather was driven to Murano, was it?" Mr. Cabot.
 
"Yes. He was a member of the of bead-makers. For you know, señor, that in those days workmen were banded together in , and kept the mysteries of their trade to themselves. The precious secret was handed down from father to son. So it was with my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather."
 
Giusippe drew himself up.
 
"Oh, it was a grand thing to be a glass- in those days, señor!" continued the boy, his eyes glowing. "The members of the guilds were so honored in Venice that they were considered equal in birth to the noblest families. They were gentlemen. A titled woman felt only pride in uniting herself with a glass-maker's family."
 
"Perhaps that is what your great-great-great-great-great-grandmother did," Jean said, half aloud.
 
"Yes, señorita," was Giusippe's simple answer. "And they say, too, she was beautiful. My ancestor was of the pater-nostereri; he was a maker of beads for rosaries. Then there were the margaritai, who made small beads; and the fuppialume, who made large blown beads. Each man was a skilled artist, you see, and did some one special thing. The phiolari made vases, cups, and glass for windows; the cristallai optical glass; and the specchiai mirrors. No strangers were allowed to visit the glass works, and all must pass a examination not only as to their skill, but as to their previous personal history. In 1495 the glass houses at Murano extended for a mile along a single street and the great furnaces roared night and day, so you can imagine how much glass was made on the island."
 
"My!" Jean breathlessly.
 
"Absolute to the art was demanded of every man engaged in it," Giusippe said. "And you can see, señor, that this was necessary. Any workman carrying the secrets elsewhere was first warned to return to Venice; then, if he refused, his nearest relative was ; if he still refused to obey he was tracked down and killed. Often glass-makers were found in Padua, Ravenna, and other places stabbed through the heart, and the word was fastened to the ."
 
Jean .
 
"Do not tremble, señorita," Giusippe said. "It was a just punishment. You see the Council of Ten felt that the prosperity of the Venetians depended upon keeping their art away from all the outside world which was so eager to learn it. All knew the penalty for disloyalty. The decree read:
 
"'If any workman conveys his art to a strange country to the of the Republic he shall be sent an order to return to Venice. Failing to obey his nearest of shall be imprisoned. If he still persists in remaining abroad and his art an emissary shall be charged to kill him.'
 
"In this way the secrets of glass-making were kept in Venice and the Republic soon became famous and prosperous. As the reputation of the Venetian glass-makers spread an immense trade was established. My grandfather has often told me of the great numbers of beads which were sent everywhere throughout the East—sometimes to Africa and even to India. In 1764 twenty-two great furnaces were kept busy supplying the beads that were demanded. Frequently, they say, as many as forty-four thousand barrels were turned out in a single week."
 
"Why, I should think that everybody in the world would have been covered with beads!" Jean exclaimed, smiling.
 
"Ah, I can tell you something stranger than that, señorita. So popular did Venetian glass of every variety become that a foreign prince created a great sensation by appearing in Paris with curls of finely black glass."
 
Jean and Uncle Bob laughed merrily.
 
"I think myself he was silly," Giusippe declared, echoing their amusement. "He, however, was not alone in his for the beautiful and ingenious workmanship of the people of my country, for even as far back as 1400 Richard the Second of England gave permission to our Venetian merchants to sell glass aboard their , duty free; and King Henry the Eighth owned as many as four or five hundred Venetian drinking , vases, dishes, and plates, some of which, they say, are still in the British Museum."
 
"We must see them when we go to London, mustn't we, Uncle Bob?" cried Jean eagerly.
 
"We surely must. All this is very interesting, Giusippe. You do well to remember so much of your country's history," said Mr. Cabot.
 
"I am proud of it, señor. Besides I have heard it many, many times. My people were never tired of telling over and over the story of the old days; the golden days of Venice, my father called them. The Republic might have retained its fame much longer had not some of our countrymen been persuaded to go to other lands and sell their secrets for gold. It was thus that the art of making mirrors was taken into France and Germany."
 
"Tell us about it, Giusippe," pleaded Jean.
 
"Why, as I think I told you, the Venetians began to make mirrors as early as 1300. Of course, señorita, they were crude affairs—not at all like the fine ones of to-day, but to people who had nothing better they were . And indeed they were both clever and beautiful. For you must remember that ages ago there was no such thing as a looking-glass. Men and women could only see their reflections in streams, pools, and fountains. Then the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans began to make mirrors of metal, using bits of or bronze often beautifully decorated on the back with classic Grecian figures. Rich women carried such mirrors fastened to their girdles or sometimes instead had them fitted into small, shallow boxes of carved ivory; sometimes too the mirror was set in a case of gold, silver, , or ebony with intricate decoration on the outside. That was the first of mirror-making."
 
"How curious!"
 
"Later the Venetians experimented and began backing pieces of glass with mercury or tin. The surface was first covered with and then rubbed down until smooth; then the whole was coated with quicksilver, which formed an with the tin. It does no harm to tell you about it now, señorita," added Giusippe a little sadly, "for every one knows. This process was slow and unsatisfactory, but it was the best the workmen then knew. These mirrors they set in elaborate frames of glass, silver, carved wood, mother-of-pearl, coral, tarsi, or into frames of painted wood. Some of them were sent by Venetian nobles as gifts to kings and queens of other countries; often they were purchased by themselves. You can see many in the museums of France, Germany, or England."
 
"We will hunt them up, Jean," Uncle Bob declared.
 
"I'd love to see them," replied the girl.
 
"My father has told me that there were frequent quarrels between the glass-makers and the mirror-framers because, you see, the framers wanted to learn the secret of making the mirrors, and the mirror-makers were jealous of the skill of the framers and feared the frame would be more beautiful than the mirror itself and so overshadow it. Then in 1600 the French stole from our people the secret of mirror-making and began turning out mirrors not only as good, but in some respects better than the Venetian ones."
 
"Oh, Giusippe, how did they steal the secret?" Jean cried. "How dreadful!"
 
"It was through the treachery of our own countrymen, señorita," Giusippe confessed. "Yes, sorry as I am to say so, it was our own fault. The French, you see, as well as the Venetians, had long been experimenting with glass-making and since it was considered there, as here, an art, many penniless Huguenot gentlemen who had lost their fortunes took it up; for one might be a glass-maker and still retain his noble rank. Such was Bernard Palissy——"
 
"The potter!" interrupted Jean. "I learned all about him in my history."
 
Giusippe nodded.
 
"So? Then you know how he struggled for years to solve the secret of making the enamel he had seen on a Saracen cup. Palissy also made some fine old stained glass, although few people seem to know this. Many another Frenchman tried to discover the Venetian's great secret. They sought to our people to tell the process, but without success. Then Colbert, the chief minister under Louis the Fourteenth, wrote the French ambassador at Venice that he must obtain for France some Venetian workmen. The ambassador was upset enough, as you may imagine, when he received the order. He said he could not do it. He dared not. If found out he would be thrown into the sea."
 
"He ought to have been!" Jean cried. "He would have deserved it."
 
"I think so too," Uncle Bob agreed.
 
"It would have been far better for Venice had he been drowned in the Adriatic," Giusippe answered slowly. "But he wasn't. Instead he began cautiously to look about. There are always in the world, señor, men who have no pride in their fatherland and can be bought with money. The next year the ambassador succeeded in eighteen glass-makers to go to France and make mirrors for Versailles, the palace of the French king. And no sooner had these men got well to work and passed the mystery on to the French than Colbert forbade the French people to import any more mirrors from Venice, as mirrors could now be made at home. Some of these early French mirrors are now in the Cluny Museum in France, my father told me. In consequence of the treachery of these workmen Germany also soon learned how to make mirrors, and the fame of the Venetian artisans declined just as the Council had predicted it would. But it will be long before any other country can equal mine in the making of or spun glass. You will, señorita, see much of this beautiful work while you are here in Venice."
 
"I want to, Giusippe; and I want to get some to take home. May I, Uncle Bob?"
 
Mr. Cabot nodded.
 
"Your story is like a fairy tale, Giusippe," said he.
 
The boy smiled with pleasure.
 
"It is a wonderful story to me because it is the story of my people. And, señor, there is much more to tell, but I must not weary you. Some of our filigree glass, it is true, became too elaborate to be beautiful. It is simply interesting because it is wonderful that out of glass could be fashioned ships, flowers, fruits, fish, and decorations of all kinds. It shows most delicate workmanship. But the drinking glasses with their fragile stems are really beautiful; and so are the vases and tazzas from white glass with enamel work or filigree of delicately blended colors. It was the Venetians, too, who invented glass, where a design is scratched or cut into the surface with a diamond or steel point of a file. And our mille-fiori glass, which came to us way back from the Egyptians, is another famous variety. This is made from the ends of fancy colored sticks of glass cut off and arranged in a pattern. You will see it in the shops here."
 
"I think you Venetians are wonderful!" Jean exclaimed.
 
"Ah, señorita, you have yet to see one of the finest things we have done," was Giusippe's grave reply. "You have to see the San Marco with its mosaics!"
 
"Yes, we surely want to go there," put in Mr. Cabot. "Do you think you could be our guide, Giusippe?"
 
"I could go to-morrow, señor; because of the festa I am free from work. I would like to show you San Marco, of all things, because I love it."
 
"I am sure no one could do it better," replied Mr. Cabot, well pleased. "To-morrow at nine, then. We will be ready . You shall tell us the rest of your fascinating Venetian history and make Venetians of us."
 
"I will come, señor."
 
"You shall be paid for your time, my boy."
 
", señor! That would spoil it all. I could not then show it to you. Forgive me and do not think me ungrateful. But my San Marco is to me the place I love. I show it to you because I love it. I have played about it and wandered in and out its doors since I was a very little child. I am proud that you should see it, señor."
 
"As you will. To-morrow then."
 
"Yes, señor."
 
Another moment and Giusippe was gone.
 
"A boy! A most remarkable boy!" ejaculated Mr. Cabot. "He knows his country's history as I fancy few others know it. Could you pass as good an examination on yours, Jean?"
 
Jean hung her head.
 
"I'm afraid not."
 
"Nor I," Uncle Bob remarked, patting her curls .