"So long, senor, 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, senor, that glass-making has ever been the great art of Venice. When paintings began to take the place of the glass mosaics 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 mosaic makers, who had previously 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--beads, mirrors, drinking cups, and ornaments. 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 banished 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?" queried Mr. Cabot. "Yes. He was a member of the guild of bead-makers. For you know, senor, that in those days workmen were banded together in guilds, 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-maker in those days, senor!" 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.