Tony, under the window, squirmed unhappily. He was everything that Anna's father had called him. Lazy! He begged! He did not always tell the truth. He was a disgrace to beautiful Naples!

But he did not want to be disciplined. He did not want to obey. He was afraid of Anna's father with his ideas of discipline.

He shivered and huddled up closer to the house. It was growing colder, and his nose felt stuffy. How warm and cosy it looked inside!

Anna's father found the page he had been looking for.

"Now," said he, "we are going to hear about a strange mixture of things. Statues, sailors, music, and cheese!"

Tony forgot the cold. He even forgot Anna's father except for his deep voice.

"The city of Genoa," read the deep voice, "is Italy's chief seaport. Its streets are lined with palaces. It seems that everything in Genoa takes place in a palace. Even schools are sometimes found in palaces!

"The city is surrounded by forts and strong walls.

"The Palazzo San Giorgio is the oldest bank in Europe. Here there is a curious collection of statues.

"They are the statues of men who have given money for public good. If you see a seated statue, you will know that this man gave a large gift.

"If a statue is standing, it means that the gift was not so large. No doubt, they wish to make the generous ones more comfortable.

"Genoa might be called 'America's Cradle.' Do you know why?"

Anna did not know. But Anna was an Italian girl. You, who are Americans, surely know that Genoa was the birthplace of Christopher Columbus.

"Christopher Columbus used to play about the water front when he was a little boy," read Anna's father. "When he grew up, he sailed off one day and discovered a new country—America!

"Genoa possesses one of the largest theatres and one of the finest cemeteries in the world!"

"I would rather go to the theatre!" declared Anna.

Tony agreed with her.

So did Tina. For, at that moment, she gave a rumbling grunt, yawned, and went back to sleep.

Anna's father read on:

"In 1813, in the Province of Parma, a baby by the name of Giuseppe Verdi was born. One year after this, a terrible battle took place in the village.

"Women and children rushed to the church for protection. But the enemy broke into the church.

"Among these poor villagers was the mother of Giuseppe Verdi. With her baby in her arms, she fled up into the belfry tower. Here she hid until all danger from the battle was past.

"Think what the world would have lost if she had not done this! For that baby became the father of Italian opera!

"His haunting melodies are sung everywhere. You have heard them though you may not know it.

"When Verdi was a little boy, he used to assist the priest in church. One day the notes of the organ carried him far away to dreamland. He did not hear the priest ask for some water.

"No water came. The priest waited. Then he repeated, 'Water!' Still no sign from Giuseppe.

"'Water!' The priest was growing angry. He touched his dreaming assistant with the toe of his shoe. Down the steps, head first, fell young Verdi!

"The older he grew the more Verdi loved his native land. At this time the people of Italy were ruled by the Austrians. They were unhappy and wanted their own king, Victor Emmanuel.

"Verdi's music always stirred within them a deep love of their country.

"It was found that the name 'Verdi' could be spelled by using the first letters of the words, 'Victor Emmanuel, RÉ d'Italia' (which means, in English, "Victor Emmanuel, King of Italy").

"The Italians would cry 'Verdi! Verdi!' The Austrians thought, of course, that these were only cheers for the popular composer. But they were really crying, 'Victor Emmanuel, King of Italy!' Had the Austrians known this, they would have been very angry."

Anna's father looked up from the book once more.

"Did you ever hear the saying, 'From the sublime to the ridiculous?'" he asked.

"No, Papa," said Anna. "What does it mean?"

"It might mean," he replied, "that we are now going from beautiful music to cheese!"

Tony wondered whether the gentleman had suddenly lost his wits.

"Of course, cheese is not at all ridiculous if you like it," he went on. "And most Italians do like it.

"Macaroni without cheese is like Mexican tamales without chile. It is like fish without chips in England, or sausage without sauerkraut in Germany!

"Parma is not only the home of a famous composer; it is also the home of a famous cheese! When I was there, I saw a poster of three, huge-nosed gentlemen sniffing at a piece of Parmesan cheese. Their eyes bulged with delight.

"Just as Verdi once was carried away by music, so these gentlemen were carried away by the odor of cheese!"

Tony saw Tina's black nose wriggling in her sleep. He almost laughed aloud. Did the little dog understand what was being said?

CHAPTER VIII