The
Italian gentleman, who called himself Count Rialto, appeared to have
a very numerous acquaintance, and was able to point out to Tony all
the chief dignitaries of the state, the men of ton and ladies of
fashion, as well as a number of other characters of a kind not
openly mentioned in taking a census of Salem.
Tony, who was not averse from reading when nothing better offered,
had perused the "Merchant of Venice" and Mr. Otway's fine tragedy;
but though these pieces had given him a notion that the social
usages of Venice differed from those at home, he was unprepared for
the surprising appearance and manners of the great people his friend
named to him. The gravest Senators of the Republic went in
prodigious striped trousers, short cloaks and feathered hats. One
nobleman wore a ruff and doctor's gown, another a black velvet tunic
slashed with rose-colour; while the President of the dreaded Council
of Ten was a terrible strutting fellow with a rapier-like nose, a
buff leather jerkin and a trailing scarlet cloak that the crowd was
careful not to step on.
It was all vastly diverting, and Tony would gladly have gone on
forever; but he had given his word to the captain to be at the
landing-place at sunset, and here was dusk already creeping over the
skies! Tony was a man of honour; and having pressed on the Count a
handsome damascened dagger selected from one of the goldsmiths'
shops in a narrow street lined with such wares, he insisted on
turning his face toward the Hepzibah's gig.
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