On my page in the Book of Fate, there was written that on the evening of the 28th of September, by five o'clock, German time, I should see Venice for the first time, as I passed from the Brenta into the lagunes, and that soon afterward I should actually enter and visit this strange island-city, this heaven-like republic. So now. Heaven be praised! Venice is no longer to me a bare and a hollow name, which has so long tormented me,—me, the mental enemy of mere verbal sounds.
As the first of the gondoliers came up to the ship (they come in order to convey more quickly to Venice those passengers who are in a hurry), I recollected an old plaything, of which, perhaps, I had not thought for twenty years. My father had a beautiful model of a gondola, which he had brought with him [from Italy]. He set a great value upon it, and it was considered a great treat when I was allowed to play with it. The first beaks of tinned iron-plate, the black gondola-gratings, all greeted me like old acquaintances; and I experienced again dear emotions of my childhood which had been long unknown.
As the first of the gondoliers came up to the ship (they come in order to convey more quickly to Venice those passengers who are in a hurry), I recollected an old plaything, of which, perhaps, I had not thought for twenty years. My father had a beautiful model of a gondola, which he had brought with him [from Italy]. He set a great value upon it, and it was considered a great treat when I was allowed to play with it. The first beaks of tinned iron-plate, the black gondola-gratings, all greeted me like old acquaintances; and I experienced again dear emotions of my childhood which had been long unknown.
