Laughter carried I noticed, in some peculiar, echoing way. The music of the bells was essentially quieting. I had no sense of Florence, old or new, but just spring, hope, new birth. And as I turned back after a time I knew I had acquired a different and very precious memory of Florence--something that would last me years and years. I should always think of the Arno as it looked this evening--how safe and gracious and still. I should always hear the voices in laughter, and the bells; I should always see the children playing on the green banks, quite as I used to play on the Wabash and the Tippecanoe; and their voices in Italian were no less sweet than our childish voices. I had a feeling that somehow the spirit of Italy was like that of America, and that somehow there is close kinship between us and Italy, and that it was not for nothing that an Italian discovered America or that Americans, of all people, have apparently loved Italy most and rivaled it most closely in their periods of greatest achievement. CHAPTER XL MARIA BASTIDA In studying out my itinerary at Florence I came upon the homely advice in Baedeker that in Venice “care should be taken in embarking and disembarking, especially when the tide is low, exposing the slimy lower steps.” That, as much as anything I had ever read, visualized this wonder city to me. These Italian cities, not being large, end so quickly that before you can say Jack Robinson you are out of them and away, far into the country. It was early evening as we pulled out of Florence; and for a while the country was much the same as it had been in the south--hill-towns, medieval bridges and strongholds, the prevailing solid browns, pinks, grays and blues of the architecture, the white oxen, pigs and shabby carts, but gradually, as we neared Bologna, things seemed to take on a very modern air of factories, wide streets, thoroughly modern suburbs and the like. It grew dark shortly after that and the country was only favored by the rich radiance of the moon which made it more picturesque and romantic, but less definite and distinguishable. In the compartment with me were two women, one a comfortable-looking matron traveling from Florence to Bologna, the other a young girl of twenty or twenty-one, of the large languorous type, and decidedly good looking. She was very plainly dressed and evidently belonged to the middle class.