CHAPTER XLVIII In Milan--The Arcade--Incidents we Met With--The Pedlar--Children--The Honest Conductor--Heavy Stocks of Clothing--The Quarrelsome Italians--Great Smoke and Little Fire--The Cathedral--Style in Church--The Old Masters--Tintoretto's great Picture--Emotional Tourists--Basson's Famed Picture--The Hair Trunk CHAPTER XLIX In Venice--St Mark's Cathedral--Discovery of an Antique--The Riches of St Mark's--A Church Robber--Trusting Secrets to a Friend --The Robber Hanged--A Private Dinner--European Food CHAPTER L Why Some things Are--Art in Rome and Florence--The Fig Leaf Mania--Titian's Venus--Difference between Seeing and Describing A Real work of Art--Titian's Moses--Home APPENDIX A--The Portier analyzed B--Hiedelberg Castle Described C--The College Prison and Inmates D--The Awful German Language E--Legends of the Castle F--The Journals of Germany CHAPTER XLIII [My Poor Sick Friend Disappointed] Everybody was out-of-doors; everybody was in the principal street of the village--not on the sidewalks, but all over the street; everybody was lounging, loafing, chatting, waiting, alert, expectant, interested--for it was train-time. That is to say, it was diligence-time--the half-dozen big diligences would soon be arriving from Geneva, and the village was interested, in many ways, in knowing how many people were coming and what sort of folk they might be. It was altogether the livest-looking street we had seen in any village on the continent. The hotel was by the side of a booming torrent, whose music was loud and strong; we could not see this torrent, for it was dark, now, but one could locate it without a light. There was a large enclosed yard in front of the hotel, and this was filled with groups of villagers waiting to see the diligences arrive, or to hire themselves to excursionists for the morrow. A telescope stood in the yard, with its huge barrel canted up toward the lustrous evening star. The long porch of the hotel was populous with tourists, who sat in shawls and wraps under the vast overshadowing bulk of Mont Blanc, and gossiped or meditated. Never did a mountain seem so close; its big sides seemed at one's very elbow, and its majestic dome, and the lofty cluster of slender minarets that were its neighbors, seemed to be almost over one's head. It was night in the streets, and the lamps were sparkling everywhere; the broad bases and shoulders of the mountains were in a deep gloom, but their summits swam in a strange rich glow which was really daylight, and yet had a mellow something about it which was very different from the hard white glare of the kind of daylight I was used to. Its radiance was strong and clear, but at the same time it was singularly soft, and spiritual, and benignant. No, it was not our harsh, aggressive, realistic daylight; it seemed properer to an enchanted land--or to heaven.