Caravan To Xanadu

When Marco Polo, a famous traveler and noble citizen of Venice, had come to ripe years and pleasant fortunes, he was summoned to the ducal palace and honorably received by the Doge, Pietro Gradenigo. “I have just read a manuscript describing the lands and peoples visited in your travels,” the Doge remarked, “and I had a curiosity to look into your face.” “I thank your Grace,” Marco Polo replied with a courtly manner, “and I hope my humble recital gave you pleasure.” “It did indeed, as well as instruction. Thereby I learned of the customs and commerce, climate and politics, of many kingdoms and cities that I didn’t know existed under the sun. I took pleasure in reading of the wondrous sights, such as broad seas, cloud-capped mountains, deserts, palaces, and wonders past counting that you beheld, and of the soul-stirring sounds, such as the voices of demons amid the barren sands and the blare of trumpets and cymbals of mighty kings as they rode forth to battle, which you heard with your own ears. I took note of the sweet perfumes that came to your nostrils, as well as the grievous stinks, and of the exquisite viands and heavenly wines that pleased your palate. I marveled over the furs, silks, gold, and jewels that passed through your hands. But I couldn’t share with you these rare and enthralling experiences, because you did not give me leave.”