'We could go on the vaporetto for sixty.'
'And nothing prevents you going,' the boatman, who was an elderly man with a red but un-choleric face, said. 'They won't take you to the Gritti but they will stop at the imbarcadero past Harry's, and you can telephone for someone from the Gritti to get your bags.'
And what would I buy with the God-damn three thousand five hundred lire; and this is a good old man.
'Do you want me to send that man there?' he pointed to a destroyed old man who did odd jobs and ran errands around the docks, always ready with the unneeded aid to the elbow of the ascending or descending passenger, always ready to help when no help was needed, his old felt hat held out as he bowed after the unneeded act. 'He'll take you to the vaporetto. There's one in twenty minutes.'
'The hell with it,' the Colonel said. 'Take us to the Gritti.'
'Con piacere,' the boatman said.
Ernest Hemingway, Across the River and into the Trees (Au-delà du fleuve et sous les arbres), 1950
Jean-Jacques Salomon
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