'We might be married there.
At any rate, let us go inside, and grow calm, and decide what to do.' When we had entered I found that whether a place to marry in or not, it was one to depress.

The word which Venice speaks most constantly--decay--was in a sense accentuated here.

The whole large fabric itself seemed sinking into an earth which was not solid enough to bear it.

Cobwebbed cracks zigzagged the walls, and similar webs clouded the window-panes.

A sickly-sweet smell pervaded the aisles.