ragamuffin failed not to seize another cake-boy in his arms, and thus
embraced, to whirl through a wild inspiration of figures, in which there
was something grotesquely rhythmic, something of indescribable barbaric
magnificence, spiritualized into a grace of movement superior to the
energy of the North and the extravagant fervor of the East. It was coffee
and not wine that I drank, but I fable all the same that I saw reflected
in this superb and artistic superation of the difficulties of dancing in
that unfriendly foot-gear, something of the same genius that combated and
vanquished the elements, to build its home upon sea-washed sands in marble
structures of airy and stately splendor, and gave to architecture new
glories full of eternal surprise.

So, I say, I grew early into sympathy and friendship with Venice, and
being newly from a land where every thing, morally and materially, was in
good repair, I rioted sentimentally on the picturesque ruin, the pleasant
discomfort and hopelessness of every thing about me here. It was not yet
the season to behold all the delight of the lazy, out-door life of the
place; but nevertheless I could not help seeing that great part of the
people, both rich and poor, seemed to have nothing to do, and that nobody
seemed to be driven by any inward or outward impulse. When, however, I
ceased (as I must in time) to be merely a spectator of this idleness, and
learned that I too must assume my share of the common indolence, I found
it a grievous burden. Old habits of work, old habits of hope, made my
endless leisure irksome to me, and almost intolerable when I ascertained
fairly and finally that in my desire to fulfill long-cherished, but, after
all, merely general designs of literary study, I had forsaken wholesome
struggle in the currents where I felt the motion of the age, only to drift
into a lifeless eddy of the world, remote from incentive and sensation.

For such is Venice, and the will must be strong and the faith indomitable