“Ja wohl, certainly; at once, if you please!”
They were handed over to me, and I saw the bridge and gave the two francs, and all was well. But it gave me no renown in Venice, for the Consul and all my friends regarded it as a fabulous joke of mine, inspired by poetic genius. But I sometimes think that the official who yielded up the keys, and the man whom he sent with me, and perhaps the commissionaire, all had a put-up job of it among them on those keys, and several glasses all round out of those two francs. Quien sabe? Vive la bagatelle!
We went on an excursion to Padua. What I remember is, that what impressed me most was a placard here and there announcing that a work on Oken had just appeared! This rather startled me. Whether it was for or against the great German offshoot from Schelling, it proved that somebody in Italy had actually studied him! Eppure si muove, I thought. It cannot be true that—
“Padua! the lamp of learning
In thy halls no more is burning.”
I have been there several times since. All that I now recall is that the hotel was not very good the last time.
I met in Venice a young New Yorker named Clark, who
had crossed with me on the ship. He was a merry companion. Sailing with him one morning in a gondola along the Grand Canal, we saw sitting before a hotel its porter, who was an unmistakable American man of full colour. Great was Clark’s delight, and he called out, “I say, Buck! what the devil are you doing here?”
With a delighted grin, the man and brother replied in deep Southern accent—
“Dey sets me hyar fo’ a bait to ’tice de Americans with.”
I heard subsequently that he had come from America with his mistress, and served her faithfully till there came into the service a pretty French girl. Great was the anger of the owner of the man to find that he had unmistakably “enticed” the maid. To which he replied that it was a free country; that he had married the damsel—she was his wife; and so the pair at once packed up and departed.