now looked out upon the square, and now gave a glance into the room, in the evident direction of a mirror.  Venetian neighbours have the amiable custom of studying one another’s features through opera-glasses; but I could not persuade myself to use this means of learning the mirror’s response to the damsel’s constant “Fair or not?” being a believer in every woman’s right to look well a little way off.  I shunned whatever trifling temptation there was in the case, and turned again to the campo beneath—­to the placid dandies about the door of the cafe; to the tide of passers-by from the Merceria; the smooth shaven Venetians of other days, and the bearded Venetians of these; the dark-eyed white-faced Venetians, hooped in cruel disproportion to the narrow streets, but richly clad, and moving with southern grace; the files of heavily burdened soldiers; the little policemen loitering lazily about with their swords at their sides, and in their spotless Austrian uniforms.”

Having reached Goldoni’s statue there are two courses open to us if we are in a mood for walking.  One is to cross the Rialto bridge and join the stream which always fills the narrow busy calli that run parallel with the Grand Canal to the Frari.  The other is to leave this campo at the far end, at Goldoni’s back, and join the stream which is always flowing backwards and forwards along the new Via Vittorio Emmanuele.

[Illustration:  S. CHRISTOPHER, S. JEROME AND S. AUGUSTINE FROM THE PAINTING BY GIOVANNI BELLINI In the Church of S. Giov.  Crisostomo]

Let me describe both routes, beginning with the second.  A few yards after leaving the campo we come on the right to the little church of S. Giovanni Crisostomo where there are two unusually delightful pictures:  a Sebastiano del Piombo and a Bellini, with a keen little sacristan who enjoys displaying their beauties and places you in the best light.  The Bellini is his last signed work, and was painted when the old man was in his eighty-fifth year.  The restorer has been at it, but not to its detriment.  S. Christopher, S. Jerome, and S. Augustine are sweetly together in a delectable country; S. Christopher (as the photograph on the opposite page shows) bearing perhaps the most charming Christ Child of all, with his thumb in his mouth.  The Piombo—­another company of saints—­over the high altar, is a fine mellow thing with a very Giorgionesque figure of the Baptist dominating it, and a lovely Giorgionesque landscape spreading away.  The picture (which I reproduce opposite page 116) is known to be the last which Sebastiano painted before he went to Rome and gave up Giorgione’s influence for Michael Angelo’s.  It has been suggested that Giorgione merely supplied the design; but I think one might safely go further and affirm that the painting of the right side was his too and the left Piombo’s.  How far Piombo departed from Giorgione’s spell and came under the other may be seen in our National Gallery by any visitor standing before No. 1—­his “Raising of Lazarus”.  Very little of the divine chromatic melody of Castel Franco there!