"You have made me see her too vividly in her tomb.

She frightens me.

Shall you go to Venice, Monsieur Dechartre?
Or are you tired of gondolas, of canals bordered by palaces, and of the pigeons of Saint Mark?
I confess that I still like Venice, after being there three times." He said she was right.

He, too, liked Venice.
Whenever he went there, from a sculptor he became a painter, and made studies.

He would like to paint its atmosphere.
"Elsewhere," he said, "even in Florence, the sky is too high.