SCENE: The main hall of the Accademia in Venice.
Time: Noon of a July day.
Dramatis personae: A guide; two drab-colored and tired men; a group of women, of various ages, equipped with red-covered little volumes, and severally expressive of great earnestness, wide-eyed rapture, and giggles.
The guide, in strident, accentless tones: Last work of Titian. Ninety-nine years old. He died of smallpox.
A woman: Is that it?
A high voice on the outskirts: I'm going to get one for forty dollars.
Another voice: Well, I'm not going to pay more than fifty for mine.
A straggler: Eliza, look at those people. Oh, you missed it! (Stopping suddenly?) My, isn't that lovely!
Chorus: Yes, that's Paris Bordone. Which one is that? He has magnificent color.
The guide: The thing you want to look at is the five figures in front.