On the floor of this magnificent hall stood a few old and broken chairs.
But the candelabra of glass and ormolu, hanging from the ceiling, were
very nearly of the date of the palace, and superb. Meanwhile, through a
faded taffeta of a golden-brown shade, the afternoon light from the high
windows to the southwest poured into the stately room.
"How it dwarfs us!" said Lord Magellan, looking at his companion. "One
feels the merest pygmy! From the age of decadence indeed!" He glanced at
the guide-book in his hand. "Good Heavens!--if this was their decay,
what was their bloom?"
"Yes--it's big--and jolly. I like it," said Kitty, absently. Then she
recollected herself. "This is your way out. Federigo!" she called to an
old man, the
custode of the palace, who appeared at the magnificent
door leading to the grand staircase.
"Commanda, eccellenza!" The old man, bent and feeble, approached. He
carried a watering-pot wherewith he was about to minister to some
straggling flowers in the windows fronting the Grand Canal. A thin cat
rubbed itself against his legs. As he stood in his shabbiness under the
high, carved door, the only permanent denizen of the building, he seemed
an embodiment of the old shrunken Venetian life, still haunting a city
it was no longer strong enough to use.
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