come from the south, from Naples and Rome."

The boat had entered the canals of the suburbs. Sordid houses stared at
him with dirty windows, as if with vacant, hostile eyes. Twice or thrice
the vessel stopped at a quay, and passengers came aboard; young fellows,
one of whom had a great portfolio under his arm; women with baskets.

Here, at last, was familiar ground. Was not that the church where
Martina used to go to confession? Was not that the house in which, after
his own fashion, he had restored the pallid and dying Agatha to ruddy
health? Was not that the place in which he had dealt with the charming
Sylvia's rascal of a brother, had beaten the fellow black and blue? Up
that canal to the right, in the small yellow house upon whose splashed
steps the fat, bare-footed woman was standing....

Before he had fully recaptured the distant memory attaching to the house
in question, the boat had entered the Grand Canal, and was passing
slowly up the broad waterway with palaces on either hand. To Casanova,
in his dreamy reflections, it seemed as if but yesterday he had
traversed the same route.

He disembarked at the Rialto Bridge, for, before visiting Signor
Bragadino, he wished to make sure of a room in a modest hostelry
nearby--he knew where it was, though he could not recall the name.
The place seemed more decayed, or at least more neglected, than he
remembered it of old. A sulky waiter, badly in need of a shave, showed
him to an uninviting room looking upon the blind wall of a house
opposite. Casanova had no time to lose. Moreover, since he had spent
nearly all his cash on the journey, the cheapness of these quarters was
a great attraction. He decided, therefore, to make his lodging there