every order, and one hardly knows what to do with the numbers of
compliments it is necessary to respond to. A Venetian does not come to see
you, he comes to revere you; he not only asks if you be well when he meets
you, but he bids you remain well at parting, and desires you to salute for
him all common friends; he reverences you at leave-taking; he will
sometimes consent to incommode you with a visit; he will relieve you of
the disturbance when he rises to go. All spontaneous wishes which must,
with us, take original forms, for lack of the complimentary phrase, are
formally expressed by him,--good appetite to you, when you go to dinner
much enjoyment, when you go to the theatre; a pleasant walk, if you meet
in promenade. He is your servant at meeting and parting; he begs to be
commanded when he has misunderstood you. But courtesy takes its highest
flights, as I hinted, from the poorest company. Acquaintances of this
sort, when not on the _Cio ciappa_ footing, or that of the familiar
thee and thou, always address each other in _Lei_ (lordship), or
_Elo_, as the Venetians have it; and their compliment-making at
encounter and separation is endless: I salute you! Remain well! Master!
Mistress! (_Paron! parona!_) being repeated as long as the polite
persons are within hearing.

One day, as we passed through the crowded Merceria, an old Venetian friend
of mine, who trod upon the dress of a young person before us, called out,
"_Scusate, bella giovane_!" (Pardon, beautiful girl!) She was not so
fair nor so young as I have seen women; but she half turned her face with
a forgiving smile, and seemed pleased with the accident that had won her
the amiable apology. The waiter of the caffe frequented by the people,
says to the ladies for whom he places seats,--"Take this place, beautiful
blonde;" or, "Sit here, lovely brunette," as it happens.

A Venetian who enters or leaves any place of public resort touches his hat