“So I am.”
“Like myself.”
“I am not jesting.”
“No more am I.”
“Then let us speak in Venetian.”
“Do you begin, and I will reply.”
We began our conversation, but when he came to the word Sabato, Saturday, which is a Sabo in Venetian, I discovered that he was a real Venetian, but not from Venice itself. He said I was right, and that he judged from my accent that I came from Venice.
“Quite so,” said I.
“I thought Bernadi was the only Venetian besides myself in St. Petersburg.”
“You see you are mistaken.”