; for the bright copper
pans and pipkins ranged on shelves along the kitchen walls had a very
cheerful effect. The walls were whitewashed, but literally covered with
all sorts of pictures. A great plaster cast from some antique, an Atys,
Adonis, or Paris, looked down from a bracket placed between the windows.
There was enough furniture, solid and well kept, in all the rooms. Among
the pictures were full-length portraits in oils of two celebrated
gondoliers--one in antique costume, the other painted a few years since.
The original of the latter soon came and stood before it. He had won
regatta prizes; and the flags of four discordant colours were painted
round him by the artist, who had evidently cared more to commemorate the
triumphs of his sitter and to strike a likeness than to secure the tone of
his own picture. This champion turned out a fine fellow--Corradini--with
one of the brightest little gondoliers of thirteen for his son.

After the company were seated, lemonade and cakes were handed round
amid a hubbub of chattering women. Then followed cups of black coffee
and more cakes. Then a glass of Cyprus and more cakes. Then a glass of
curacoa and more cakes. Finally, a glass of noyau and still more cakes.
It was only a little after seven in the morning. Yet politeness
compelled us to consume these delicacies. I tried to shirk my duty; but
this discretion was taken by my hosts for well-bred modesty; and instead
of being let off, I had the richest piece of pastry and the largest
macaroon available pressed so kindly on me, that, had they been
poisoned, I would not have refused to eat them. The conversation grew
more and more animated, the women gathering together in their dresses of
bright blue and scarlet, the men lighting cigars and puffing out a few
quiet words. It struck me as a drawback that these picturesque people
had put on Sunday-clothes to look as much like shop-keepers as possible.
But they did not all of them succeed. Two handsome women, who handed the
cups round--one a brunette, the other a blonde--wore skirts of brilliant
blue, with a sort of white jacket, and white kerchief folded heavily
about their shoulders. The brunette had a great string of coral, the
blonde of amber, round her throat. Gold earrings and the long gold
chains Venetian women wear, of all patterns and degrees of value,
abounded. Nobody appeared without them; but I could not see any of an
antique make. The men seemed to be contented with