Free The Miracle by Irving Wallace

smilingly acknowledged the greetings of several of the older concierges who had known her through the years and now had been informed of her condition.
    Outside, on the Riva degh Schiavoni, Natale asked, "What kind of day is it? I know it's warm and a little sticky."
    "The sun's out, but hazy. It'll be hot by noon."
    "Is it crowded?"
    "Swarms of tourists. Lots of Germans, British, a group of Japanese. You'll know it when we get to the bridge."
    The bridge formed an arch over a canal, the Ponte della Paglia, upon which visitors always jammed to photograph the Bridge of Sighs, the high passageway on their right that led from the Doges' Palace to the ducal dungeons, from which Casanova had once escaped. As an adolescent, Natale had read the forbidden parts of Casanova's Memoires and wondered what had made him such a legendary lover, or if it had all been self-promotion. She had fantasized having Casanova make love to her, and supposed that it was the variety he had offered and his endurance that had excited so many women from every social class.
    They were walking, and there was a constant babble of voices in numerous languages, and she felt the pressure of Aunt Elsa's hand on her arm. "There are three young men, locals I think," said Aunt Elsa, "who have stopped and are staring at you, stupefied."
    "Because they pity me?"
    "I said stupefied, stupid," said Aunt Elsa. "They don't know there's anything to pity. They see only a gorgeous young girl with an inadequate brassiere beneath a flesh-tight T-shirt, and they're awed."
    "Oh, sure," said Natale, but she was pleased.
    "Here's the bridge, step up."
    The Ponte della Pagha was crowded, as it had always been, and this time Natale took pleasure in the bumping, pushing, elbowing as they reached the top. It was easier coming down and crossing the pavement toward the two granite columns of the Piazzetta. Natale could picture the colonnaded side of the Doges' Palace to her right, and to her left, across the bobbing moored black gondolas, the magnificent San Giorgio Maggiore rising up out of the glistening lagoon.
    "There are all kinds of bookstalls and vendors along the ducal palace," said Aunt Elsa.
    "Yes," said Natale remembering. It was poking through these stalls that she had first found Byron, Stendhal, Ruskin in Italian paperbacks and devoured them.
    "Cafffe Chioggia isn't too filled right now," said Aunt Elsa. Natale

    pictured the long outdoor cafe across from the Doges' Palace where she had once flirted with a timid American boy, who had been afraid to approach her.
    "Are we in the Piazza San Marco yet?" inquired Natale.
    "Just about. Nothing's changed. There's the Campanile, tall as ever. The four bronze horses are still over the front of the Basilica. The Piazza is—well, you know—hectic as usual, the pigeons waddling about for their maize, and fluttering off when the children chase them. It's the same, Natale. It never changes in Venice."
    "Thank God," said Natale.
    "You want to sit down?"
    "I'm thirsty," said Natale.
    "Is it still Quadri's? The music has just begun there."
    "Yes, let's sit in Quadri's." Unaccountably, Quadri's with its small circular gray tables and yellow wicker chairs and the bandstand to the rear had always been her favorite outdoor cafe. Caffe Lavena, beside it, seemed to have less character, and Florian's on the opposite side, although the oldest of the Piazza cafes, built in 1720, often occupied by Lord Byron in his day, always seemed to take too much sun. But Quadri's, on her last visit, had been most restful.
    They were going across the Piazza San Marco, and Natale could hear the shrieks of youngsters and the flapping rise of pigeons, and she hoped that she wouldn't step on one, although nobody ever did.
    Apparently, they had reached Quadri's cafe, because Aunt Elsa was saying, "There's a free table in the shade." Natale allowed Aunt Elsa to take her hand, and lead her up an aisle.
    Stopping, Natale groped for a chair, sat down, and listened to