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Updated: May 19, 2025
Its population is a motley and worshipful assemblage of priests, monks, French soldiers, facini, and beggars; and it would be hard to say which is the idlest, or which is the dirtiest. They seemed to be gathered promiscuously into the caffés, priests, facini, and all, rattling the dice and sipping coffee. The Arabs of the desert are not more greedy of backsheish.
As soon as you leave the live part of the town, with the few little caffès and shops, and the esplanades whence the thrice-lovely landscape unfolds beneath your gaze, you wander among quiet little paved piazzas with a bit of daisied grass in their midst, surrounded by great silent buildings, whence through some opening you descry a street which is a ravine, and the opposite cliff rising high above you piled close with gray houses overhung with shrubs and creepers, and little gardens in their crevices like weeds between the stones of a wall; or you come out upon a secluded gallery with tall, deserted-looking mansions on one hand except that at some sunny window there is always to be seen a girl's head beside a pot of carnations or nasturtiums and on the other a parapet over which you lean to see the town scrambling up the hillside, while a great breadth of valley and hill and snow-covered mountain stretches away below.
There were all the prettiest shops; there were all the finest caffes; there was the incomparable Church of St. Mark; there was the whole world of Venice.
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