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He was first named with terms of endearment strange upon the lips of that stately assembly "Il caro Padre," "Teologo amato di Venezia" yet the guards had failed to seize those villains who lay in wait at the Ponte della Pugna! The bridges and traghetti must be closely watched. Ah the gastaldo grande!
The other, sitting just in front of her, took up the volume and rustled its leaves. "How far have you got? This pencil mark? 'Amor ch'a null' amato amar perdona." She read the line in an undertone, slowly towards the close. Miriam's face showed a sudden and curious emotion. Glancing at the book, she said abruptly: "No; that's an old mark a difficulty I had. I'm long past that."
Her father took off his hat with an almost wildly polite gesture, and said, in a loud voice: "Buona sera, signore." "Buona sera," replied Maurice, holding out his hand. Salvatore took it in a large grasp. "You are the signore who lives up on Monte Amato with the English lady?" "Yes." "I know. She has gone to Africa."
Let Doltaire, the idler, the Don Amato, the hunter of that fawn, save her from the holy ambush. Tut, tut, Chevalier. Let her go. Your nephew is to marry her sister; let her be swallowed up a shame behind the veil, the sweet litany of the cloister." The Chevalier's voice set hard as he said in quick reply, "My family honour, Francois Bigot, needs no screen.
Now our party gazed on these things as they move the wise. They felt calm and happy; and deceptive hope whispered they might yet remain so. Acme took up her guitar, and throwing her fingers over it, as she gave a soft prelude, warbled that sweet although common song, "Buona notte, amato bene." She sung with great feeling, and feeling is the soul of music.
To go back to that tiny home, solitary in its beautiful situation, in the changed circumstances which were hers, would be, he told her, to court and to summon sorrow. He was even cruel to be kind. When Hermione combated his view, assuring him that to her Monte Amato was like a sacred place, a place hallowed by memories of happiness, he recalled the despair in which that happiness had ended.
Gaspare, who, as major-domo, had chosen her imperiously for his assistant and underling in the house of the priest, had informed her that she was to receive twenty-five lire a month for her services, besides food and lodging, and plenty of the good, red wine of Amato. To Lucrezia such wages seemed prodigal. She had never yet earned more than the half of them.
"Now, Sarah," her towering giant of a husband begged, "I just got to mention her or I can't tell about the nugget. It was one night when I was taking a locomotive no train down to Amato, about thirty miles from Quito. Seth Manners was my fireman. I was breaking him in to engineer for himself, and I was letting him run the locomotive while I sat up in his seat meditating about Sarah here.
And Maurice he had known Ruffo's mother. He must have known her. But when? How had he got to know her? Hermione stood still. "It must have been when I was in Africa!" A hundred details of her husband's conduct, from the moment of his return from the fair till the last kiss he had given her before he went away down the side of Monte Amato, flashed through her mind.
He was waiting at the station of Cattaro. Outside stood the little train of donkeys, decorated with flowers under his careful supervision. Upon Monte Amato, in the Casa del Prete, everything was in readiness for the arrival of the Padrona and the Padrone. For this time his Padrona was not to be alone.
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