His expenditure of a penny will
entitle him not only to a cup of coffee, as aforesaid, but also to a
glass of fresh water, which has been turned to an opaline color by
the shaking into it of a few drops of something which the waiter drops
from a bottle with some contrivance at its mouth, the effect of which
is to cause only a drop or two of the liquor, whatever it may be, to
come out at each shake. Our old friend is also entitled, in virtue of
his expenditure, to occupy the chair he sits on for as many hours as
he shall see fit to remain in it. And after the coffee, which must
be drunk while hot, has been despatched, the sippings of the opaline
mixture aforesaid may be protracted indefinitely while he enjoys the
cool evening-breezes from the lagoon, the perfection of _dolce far
niente_, and the amusement the life of the Riva never fails to afford
him. An itinerant vender of little models of gondolas and bracelets
and toys made out of shells comes by, seeking a customer among the
folk assembled at the caffe. He does not address Pantaloon, for of
course he knows that there is nothing to be done in that line with
him. But spying with a hawk's glance a _forestiere_ among the crowd,
he strolls up to him, holding up one of his gimcrack bracelets
daintily--and he thinks temptingly, poor fellow!--between his finger
and thumb. "Un franco! Un sol franco! e una beleza per una contesa!"
("One franc! only one franc! It would be beautiful on the arm of a
countess!") he murmurs in his soft lisping Venetian, which abolishes
all double consonants, and supplies their place by prolonging the soft
liquid sound of the preceding vowel.
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