A newspaper correspondent, a Mr.John Holles, lingering on his road home from the army, put him on the track of an Englishman's books--touching the spirit as well as the stones of Venice, and Nevil thanked him when he had turned some of the leaves.
The study of the books to school Renee was pursued, like the Bianchina's sleep, in gondoletta, and was not unlike it at intervals.

A translated sentence was the key to a reverie.

Renee leaned back, meditating; he forward, the book on his knee: Roland left them to themselves, and spied for the Bianchina behind the window-bars.

The count was in the churches or the Galleries.

Renee thought she began to comprehend the spirit of Venice, and chided her rebelliousness.
'But our Venice was the Venice of the decadence, then!' she said, complaining.