asters, and daturas—were borne through the huge
arxhed door of the church near St. Mark and his
open book. Lolo looked on at it all, and so did
Moufflou, and a stranger looked at them as he left
' You have a handsome poodle there, my little
man,' he said to Lolo, in a foreigner's too distinct
and careful Italian.
' Moufflou is beautiful,' said Lolo, with pride; ' you
should see him when he is just washed, but we can
only wash him on Sundays, because then Tasso is
' How old is your dog ?'
' Three years old.'
• Does he do any tricks ? '
* Does he !' said Lolo, with a very derisive laugh ;
'Avhy, Moufflou can do anything! He can walk on
tAvo legs ever so long; make ready, present, and fire;
die ; waltz ; beg, of course ; shut a door ; make a
Avheelbarrow of himself; there is nothing he will not
do. Would you like to see him do something ?'
' Very much,' said the foreigner.
To Moufflou and to Lolo the street was the
same thing as home; this cheery piazzetta by the
church, so utterly empty sometimes, and sometimes
so noisy and crowded, was but the wider threshold of
their home to both the poodle and the child.
So there, under the lofty and stately walls of the
old church, Lolo put Moufflou through his exercises.