Bartolo was very different from his father, and in many ways was a great disappointment to the old merchant-prince. The child never seemed to have any sense of the value of money. Give him a handful of pennies, and instead of saving them up they would be all gone before an hour had passed. It was always the same story.

Such a poor old beggar asked alms of me at the church door, my father, and he gave me such a goodly blessing for but two small coins. And then I found the little Beppino weeping since his only penny had slipped through his fingers and rolled plump into the canal. Thou wouldst not have left him uncomforted, and besides, his thanks were worth many pennies.

Thou art but a fool, growled his father. Blessings and thanks indeed! Much good may they do thee, and far may they go towards filling thy empty purse.

But in spite of many scoldings Bartolo could never learn to hoard his money or refuse to help those who asked for his aid. Even when he grew to be a young man of twenty, it was ever the same.

It is now time that thou shouldst learn to make money, as well as to spend it, said his father one day. I shall send thee forthwith on a trial trip in one of my merchant ships. See, here are three hundred gold pieces with which thou shalt trade. They are not thine own but given thee on trust, and thou shalt not lend them or give them away, but shalt bring back to me something in exchange. Look to it that thou prove worthy of my trust.

Bartolo took the money gladly and promised to do all that his father had said. Many a time had he watched the great ships spread their sails and ride gallantly out to sea, and often had he followed them with longing eyes as they swept along the waterway. But now he, too, would go sailing off towards those distant lands of which he had so often dreamed.

All was new and strange and wonderful to him as Venice was left behind, and he began his first voyage on the green sea. How eagerly he looked forward to the time when they should reach the far-off countries where he was to see such wonders and trade with his father's gold. But the ships had not sailed many days before an island came in sight, and when they reached it the captain sent a boatload of sailors ashore that they might bring off a fresh supply of water.

When the sailors returned to the ship they were very much excited and told a strange tale. There on the island they had found a company of men who looked like brigands, but who said that they were Christian slaves, just escaped from the Turks. These men had implored the sailors to help them as they had very little food and were in great distress.

As soon as Bartolo heard all this he jumped into the boat and bade the sailors row him to the island, that he might see for himself who these men were and what help they might need.

The escaped slaves very soon saw what manner of man Bartolo was. And because he had such a kind heart and was so anxious to help every one, they made their story as sad as possible, and ended up by begging him to give them money.

But I have no money of my own to give you, said Bartolo simply. I can but give you food and clothing.

No money? said the men roughly. Then how comes it that thou art sailing as master of that great ship?

The ship belongs to my father, and the money that I have is his also, lent to me on trust, answered Bartolo. I am bound by my promise not to give it away, but to trade with it and bring back merchandise in its stead.

A gleam came into the greedy eyes of the men as they listened.

That is well, they said, for thou canst then lay out thy money wisely in buying our great treasure.

What treasure is that? asked Bartolo in surprise, for the men had said they possessed nothing.

A treasure indeed, said one of them with a hoarse laugh, the most beautiful maiden thine eyes have ever rested upon. She is a princess, daughter of the Grand Turk. When we escaped from the palace we contrived to carry her off with us, and now we mean to make her serve our ends in one way or another. Either we shall sell her for gold, or make her suffer in revenge for all the misery her people have caused us these many years.

I do not buy slaves, said Bartolo haughtily, and what use would a beautiful maiden be to me?

Come now, said the man, thou mayest at least look at our treasure, even if thou hast no mind to buy her.

Then with cruel, rough hands they dragged forward a young, helpless girl and placed her in front of Bartolo. Never before had he seen anything half so lovely, and he almost held his breath as he gazed earnestly at her. Her gauzy dress of silken tissue was torn and soiled, and she looked like a delicate flower which had been carelessly plucked and left to fade. But in spite of all she had suffered, her beauty shone out like a gleam of heaven's sunshine in a dark place. Her long golden hair had escaped from its fastening and half wrapped her round as with a mantle, and her wonderful star-like eyes seemed to shine as from an inward light.

It was plain that she had been but cruelly treated, for the look she cast at Bartolo was one of terror. She seemed so unhappy that his heart was wrung with pity, and he began to wonder if he could not buy her and save her from the cruelty of her captors.

Well, and how much do you want for your treasure? he said, as he turned to the men who watched him with eager looks.

Six hundred golden pieces, they said at once.

Then I certainly cannot buy her, said Bartolo, for I have only three hundred zecchini all told.

But the men began to consult together, for they wanted to get rid of the princess, and needed the money immediately, so with a very bad grace they told Bartolo he might have her at that price.

Though indeed thou mightest well give us more, they grumbled, seeing how rich are her clothes and how precious is that jewelled star which she wears round her neck.

But seeing there was indeed no more money to be had, they took all that they could get, and Bartolo carried off the beautiful maiden back to the ship with him.

Now, as all the money was gone and there was nothing left with which to buy merchandise, it seemed useless to go farther, and so the ship was turned homewards and they set sail once more for Venice.

At first the beautiful princess was more frightened than ever, but ere long, when she saw how gently she was treated, she began to take courage. The best state-room was given to her, and she was waited upon as if she were a queen, while every one was ready to do her bidding. So the frightened look began to die out of her star-like eyes, and she grew more beautiful than ever. No one could understand her at first, for she spoke a language that sounded strange in their ears, but very soon she learned to say Bartolo, and whenever she wanted anything, or if she was lonely or unhappy, her soft voice would be heard calling Bartolo, Bartolo. When he came he was sure to make everything right.

After that Bartolo began to teach her other words, and especially taught her to say Father over and over again. He was very anxious that the old merchant should be pleased with the beautiful girl whom he was bringing home in exchange for the gold.

So the pleasant days flew swiftly by. But though the maiden seemed happy, there were times when the look of misery and fear would cloud her eyes again. She could not yet understand where she was going. She knew she was a slave, and feared she might be sold once more, and that perhaps a worse fate awaited her.

At last they came in sight of Venice, and Bartolo was rejoiced to see his beautiful city again. But for the first time he began to wonder what his father would think of this adventure. It would be wiser, he thought, to see him alone and tell him all about it, before bringing the maiden home. So he left the princess in the ship, promising ere long to return and fetch her.

The old merchant was overjoyed to see his son, and embraced him again and again.

But how is it that thou hast returned so soon? he asked.

Then Bartolo began to tell his tale, and as he went on the merchant's brow grew blacker and blacker, and when the story was finished with the account of how the three hundred golden zecchini had been paid for the maiden, the old man's rage knew no bounds.

Alas! that I should have a fool for a son, he shouted. Dost thou dream that thou canst ever get half the money for her that thou hast given?

Get money for her? said Bartolo. What? Dost thou imagine I intend to sell her?

And what else is she good for? asked his father. If thou wilt not sell her, I will, and that right quickly too.

Thou shalt not as much as touch her, said Bartolo, getting angry too, and if thou darest to interfere with her in any way, I will appeal to the Sindaco for protection.

The old merchant had never seen his son angry before, and as, in spite of his loud talk, he was rather a coward, he became somewhat frightened at Bartolo's wrath.

Come, come, he said in a gentler tone, I will not touch her. Let me but see this wonderful treasure.

So Bartolo went back to the ship and brought the maiden to his father's house, and as they returned together he tried to make her understand where they were going to, by saying Father over and over again.

The sun had been hiding behind a cloud, and the room looked grey and cheerless as the maiden came timidly forward. But just at that moment the cloud passed and a burst of sunshine flooded the room with light. It shone upon the silvery gauze of the princess's dress, it lightened into a cloud of glory the waves of her golden hair, and played with tiny points of light upon the sparkling jewels of the star upon her breast, until she seemed wrapped round in a halo of living flame. Her starry eyes shone with excitement, and as she came nearer and said Father in her soft voice, the old man started as if he had seen a vision, and then bowed his head and kissed her hand as if doing homage to a queen.

There was no more talk of selling the treasure, for the old merchant began to love her almost as much as he loved his son. And when the maiden had learned to speak their language, she guided the household affairs so skilfully, and attended to all their wants so carefully, that Bartolo and his father wondered what they had ever done without her.

Bartolo, said the old man one day, pray what dost thou mean to do with this beautiful maiden?

Bartolo looked up with troubled eyes.

I too have been thinking of that, he said. Methinks we should send her to some convent where the good nuns would teach her our faith so that she may be baptized, and then perchance we may wed her to some great prince.

Now, by my faith, said the old merchant crossly, thou art more foolish than ever I had supposed. Why not marry her thyself?

But Bartolo opened his eyes wide in wonder and surprise.

Marry her! he repeated; but she is a princess, and would never marry a common merchant.

Oh, go thy own foolish way, said his father; I wash my hands of thee.

Bartolo shook his head gravely, and ere long he so arranged matters that the princess was received into a convent. There she was taught many things, and at last was baptized by the name of Stellante. They chose that name because her eyes were like the stars, and because she always wore upon her breast the beautiful star-like jewel, which was her only possession.

But it was not long before the good nuns sent for Bartolo and told him that their charge was very unhappy and constantly prayed to be allowed to go home. Not till then did Bartolo come to know that his beautiful Stellante really loved him and could not be happy without him. So they were married, and it seemed as if life was all to be as gay as a summer's morning.

But at the end of a year the old merchant began to grow restless and called his son to him.

Thou hast well learned how to spend money, he said, but never how to make it. Once more I will give thee three hundred zecchini and a good ship, and to-morrow thou shalt sail away on a fresh venture.

Sorrow fell on the heart of Stellante when she knew that she must be left alone. Day and night she sat and wove a fine chain of her own golden hair, and when it was finished she hung thereon her jewelled star and clasped it round the neck of her beloved Bartolo.

Thou shalt never part with it, she said. The chain of my hair will bind my heart to thine—the star will serve to remind thee of Stellante.

So Bartolo set out once more, but this time he was not eager to go, but rather counted the days until he should return.

The first place at which the ship stopped was the little town of Amalfi, with its great convent perched on the side of the vine-clad hill. The people of Amalfi were then a greedy, grasping race, who cared for nothing but gain and bargaining, and as Bartolo crossed the market-place he saw to his surprise that a dead man lay there among the merchandise.

How is this? he asked of one of the passers-by; do you allow a man to lie unburied in your streets?

That is a man who died in debt, said the other carelessly, and his creditors will not allow him to be buried until all his debts are paid.

That, of course, was more than Bartolo could suffer, and before long he had paid all the poor man's debts, and the body was laid to rest. Then Bartolo felt he must help the widow and children, and when all was done there was not a penny left of the three hundred golden zecchini.

Well, said Bartolo to himself, this time, at any rate, my father cannot disapprove, for surely he would himself have acted as I have done. So he sailed back to Venice in good spirits, longing to see Stellante again.

No words can describe the rage and fury of the old merchant when he heard how his son had spent the gold pieces.

Never darken my doors again! he screamed. From this day forth I cast thee out, and thou art no longer a son of mine. The Turkish girl and the dead man may be thy protectors.

Very sorrowfully then did Bartolo turn away, but scarcely had he gone ten steps when a little hand was slipped into his and he found Stellante by his side.

Thou canst not come with me, little Star, he said. I have no home now to which to take thee. Stay rather in peace and comfort with my father.

But I cannot live without thee, said Stellante, and didst thou not hear what thy father said? The Turkish girl will indeed be thy protector.

So together they went out to seek their fortune, and Stellante began to sew the most wonderful pieces of embroidery, such as no one had ever before seen in Venice. When these were sold they brought in such a great price that there was money enough on which to live in ease and comfort. Bartolo, too, found work to do, and while he was away Stellante sewed her embroidery and began to make three great pieces of tapestry, the stitches of which were so fine and varied that a whole year passed before the work was finished.

Now it happened at the end of a year that a great fair was held to which buyers and sellers came from all the country round. Stellante therefore took the tapestry and bade Bartolo carry it to the fair where he might chance to sell it.

But above all things, she warned him, do not breathe my name to any one or tell who has done the work, and do not take less than a hundred gold zecchini for each piece.

The days of the fair went past and many people came to look and admire the wonderful pieces of tapestry, but they all shook their heads when they heard of the great price which was asked for them. No one was found who would offer even fifty zecchini. Bartolo began to feel downcast and heavy-hearted, for it was near the end of the fair, and he feared he would be forced to carry back the tapestry unsold. But on the very last day some strange foreign-looking men came to look at the work and seemed to think the price not too great.

We come with a commission from the King of France, they told Bartolo. He wishes his palace to be hung with the rarest and most beautiful tapestry, and these pieces are the most exquisite we have seen. But before we buy them we would wish to learn who has done this wonderful work?

I must not tell the name of the worker, answered Bartolo; that must go untold.

Then the men consulted together and finally bade Bartolo bring the tapestry on board their ship which was lying at anchor close by. It must be delivered to the captain, they said, and he would pay for it himself.

But when Bartolo had carried the precious load on board and the captain had examined it closely, he still refused to pay the money.

This is a woman's work, he said, and how am I to know that thou hast not stolen it?

Bartolo was very angry when he heard this, so angry indeed that he forgot the warning given him by Stellante.

It is my wife's work, he said proudly, and I am selling it for her.

Nevertheless you shall prove your words, answered the captain. Bring thy wife here that I may pay her the money herself.