To Casanova, in his dreamy reflections, it seemed as if but yesterday he had traversed the same route.
He disembarked at the Rialto Bridge, for, before visiting Signor Bragadino, he wished to make sure of a room in a modest hostelry nearby--he knew where it was, though he could not recall the name.
The place seemed more decayed, or at least more neglected, than he remembered it of old.

A sulky waiter, badly in need of a shave, showed him to an uninviting room looking upon the blind wall of a house opposite.

Casanova had no time to lose.

Moreover, since he had spent nearly all his cash on the journey, the cheapness of these quarters was a great attraction.

He decided, therefore, to make his lodging there for the present.