They had passed the domain of the Laguna Morta, weird and
half-forbidding, with tangles of sea-plants and upspringing wild fowl
calling to each other with hoarse cries across the marshes--with armies
of water beetles zigzagging in the shallows, and crabs and lizards
crawling upon the scattered sand heaps among the coarse sea-grasses,
while small fish brought unexpected dimples to the deeper pools that lay
between. And the mingled odor of waters fresh and salt was broken into a
breath now pungent and pleasant, now almost noisome, as the light breeze
stirred the shallows of this strange domain which was neither land nor
sea. Yet even here the pale sea-holly and the evening primrose made
redeeming spots of beauty, with their faint hues of violet and yellow;
and a distant water-meadow shimmered like the sea, with the tender blue
of the spreading lavender.
They had passed Fusina, and the lagoon lay silvery, like a trail of
moonlight behind them--Venice in the distance, opalesque, radiant, a
city of dreams.
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