"What want they of walls?" answered Matteo. "Their stout galleys are walls enough for them, and the water which rings them round is sufficient moat. No enemy ever has dared to strike at the Venetians. His fate would be certain." "And have they no streets?" demanded Hugh, as the ferry swept along between lines of houses, built flush to the water's edge, allowing room only for shallow flights of landing-stairs. "Yes, in some sections of the city. 'Tis built not directly in the water, as you might suppose, but on a series of islands and islets, great and small. On the larger islands there are a few streets, but the principal avenues are made of water, and the people vastly prefer to ride hither and yon in their small boats." As the ferry neared the centre of the city, the traffic on the water increased until it crowded the canal. The boats were all quite small--gondolas, Matteo called them--and the boatmen were exceedingly dexterous in their management, guiding them through the throng with a mere twist of the wrist on the single oar trailing astern. Occasionally a barge of six oars or one of the State galleys used for the patrol of the city clove a path through the swarm of light craft. Hugh could not understand why accidents did not occur when boats dashed out of side canals apparently without any heed to the craft navigating the main waterway. But the boatmen never lost their heads, no matter how loud the clamour of voices or how dense the press. It was almost dark, when the ferryman turned east from the Grand Canal into one of the waterways which crossed it and brought his unwieldy craft to rest against a flight of steps leading up to a ponderous castellated structure, with grated windows on its lower stories and massive, iron-scrolled doors guarding the entrance. "This is the fondaco Ziniani," said Matteo. "I should call it a palace or a castle," returned Hugh doubtfully, craning his head back to observe the tiers of windows and the tall tower that rose at one corner of the pile. "You would not be wrong, comrade," laughed Matteo. "'Tis both, and I can promise you a fair lodging. Come, let us ascend. Ralph, do you remain in the ferry. The man will take you around to the garden-gate, where you may leave the horses. All things are comprised in this building, Hugh, even to a grassy garden, where Beosund may crop to his belly's content." He put his hand in Hugh's arm, and they ran swiftly up the steps. As they approached the door it swung inward, admitting them to a hall of tremendous dimensions, lighted by lamps which hung by bronze chains from the roof and by innumerable torches of resinous wood stuck in bronze holders on the walls. The smoky light made the interior of the building more mysterious, more shadowy, to Hugh's dazed eyes.