In time we came to the campo of S.Pantaleone, where, outside a cafe, a little group was always seated, over its wine and beer, listening raptly to the music of--what?
A gramophone.

This means that while the motor is ousting the gondolier, the Venetian minstrel is also under death sentence.
It was the same if I chose to walk part of the way, for then I took the steamer to S.Toma and passed through the campo of S.Margherita, which does for the poor of its neighbourhood very much what the Piazza of S.
Mark does for the centre of the city and the elite of the world.

This campo is one of the largest in Venice, and at night it is very gay.
There is a church at one end which, having lost its sanctity, is now a cinema theatre, with luridities pasted on the walls.

There is another ancient building converted into a cinema at the opposite end.

Between these alluring extremities are various cafes, each with its chairs and tables, and each with a gramophone that pours its notes into the night.
The panting of Caruso mingles with Tetrazzini's shrill exultation.
In summer there are occasional firework displays on the water between S.
Giorgio and the Riva, supplied by the Municipality.