I returned homewards over the Ponte Vecchio, which is a continuous street
of ancient houses, except over the central arch, so that a stranger might
easily cross the river without knowing it. In these small, old houses
there is a community of goldsmiths, who set out their glass cases, and
hang their windows with rings, bracelets, necklaces, strings of pearl,
ornaments of malachite and coral, and especially with Florentine mosaics;
watches, too, and snuff-boxes of old fashion or new; offerings for
shrines also, such as silver hearts pierced with swords; an infinity of
pretty things, the manufacture of which is continually going on in the
little back-room of each little shop. This gewgaw business has been
established on the Ponte Vecchio for centuries, although, long since, it
was an art of far higher pretensions than now. Benvenuto Cellini had his
workshop here, probably in one of these selfsame little nooks. It would
have been a ticklish affair to be Benvenuto's fellow-workman within such
narrow limits.
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