A strange feeling of adventure overwhelmed me for days after seeing that red-haired man who conveyed adventure to me. My first destination was an island, lifeless, there was no adventure there, so I changed my place to Venice, that place where I was once when I was young and from which I had to leave because of illness. I arrived in a gondola with a gondolier at the Hotel des Bains, located on the island of Lido in Venice. There I stayed in one of the most luxurious rooms they had, after giving some orders to some waitresses, I dressed for lunch and went down to the hall, where some guests were gathered. Strangers among themselves, but in common expectation of food. Take the newspaper from the table. I settled into a leather armchair and started thinking about those people. The Slavic race seemed to dominate. It was a group of boys gathered around a small straw table, under the watchful eye of a teacher or chaperone. Three boys, perhaps fifteen and seventeen years old, and a girl with long hair who looked about fourteen. I noticed with astonishment that the girl had a perfect head. Her face, pale and precisely austere, framed by honey-colored hair; her nose, delicate; her mouth, refined, and an expression of delightful, divine serenity. They reminded me of the Greek busts of the most noble period. And though her form was classically perfect, she possessed such extraordinary personal charm that the observer could accept the impossibility of finding anything more refined. What immediately struck me was the contrast between the educational aspect dictated by their clothing and the treatment of their brothers. The attire of the three brothers, the eldest of whom was already a grown man, could not have been simpler or more chaste, to the point that it almost made them unattractive.

— Did Aphrodite herself decide to embody her son Eros in this beautiful girl?

I muttered to myself as I continued to look at her. It was clear that the girl's existence was governed by gentleness and delicate treatment. No one had dared to touch her beautiful hair, which fell in abundant curls over her forehead, ears, and back. The English lady's dress, whose puffed sleeves were pulled down, pressing against the delicate wrists of her childlike hands, lent, with its laces, buttons, and embroidery, a touch of richness and pampering to her delicate figure. I saw her in profile, seated with her legs outstretched and one foot, in its patent leather slippers, crossed over the other; one elbow rested on the arm of her wicker chair, her cheek drooping against her closed hand, in an attitude of elegant indolence, without a hint of the rigidity to which her brothers seemed accustomed. Was she ill? The skin of her face was as white as ivory against the dark gold of the curls that framed it. Or was she simply a spoiled only child, in whom her excessive and capricious affection had produced that enervation?