and pretend not to be abandoned swindlers.
The Venetians call them gransieri, or crab-
catchers; but as yet I did not know the
name or the purpose of this poverino ¹ at the
station, but merely saw that he had the
Venetian eye for color: in the distribution
and arrangement of his fragments of dress
he had produced some miraculous effects of
red, and he was altogether as infamous a
figure as any friend of brigands would like
to meet in a lonely place. He did not offer
to stab me and sink my body in the Grand
Canal, as, in all Venetian keeping, I felt
that he ought to have done; but he implored
an alms, and I hardly know now whether to
exult or regret that I did not understand
him, and left him empty-handed. I suppose
that he withdrew again the blessings which
he had advanced me, as we pushed out into
the canal; but I heard nothing, for the
wonder of the city was already upon me.
All my nether-spirit, so to speak, was dulled
and jaded by the long, cold railway journey
from Vienna, while every surface-sense was
taken and tangled in the bewildering bril-

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