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"This evening, Signore; it will be fine for sailing this evening." "If not this evening, another day. A rivederci, Fabiano." "A rivederci, Signore. Buon passeggio." The man went back to his companions, and, as Artois walked on began talking eagerly to them, and pointing after the stranger. Artois did not know what he would do later on in the evening, but he had decided on the immediate future.
It was a treat for the girl to be with any one so clever and so cheerful; and a blue military cloak, such as an Italian officer wears, only increased the sense of festivity. "Buon giorno! Take the word of an old woman, Miss Lucy: you will never repent of a little civility to your inferiors. That is the true democracy. Though I am a real Radical as well. There, now you're shocked."
Luther heard himself called "un buon Christiano" at Rome and discovered that that meant as much as "an egregious ass." But he considered that a part of Italian wickedness. The Church, he was sure, approved of all that he did, in fact, had taught him to do all that.
His tears fell fast, and his prayer was scarcely more than a broken murmur of "Povero signorino povero signorino Dio ci mandi buon riposo in Paradiso." Hermione could not pray although she was in the attitude of supplication; but when she heard the words of Gaspare she murmured them too. "Buon riposo!" The sweet Sicilian good-night she said it now in the stillness of the lonely dawn.
The contrast assured me, while it gave me confidence enough to watch my wily enemy. He saw me, however he saw me and reined up his horse. He beckoned me towards him in the way of free command which a mounted man assumes with peasants. As it would have been more singular to stand than to obey, I went slowly over the furrows and saluted him, responding to his bluff "Buon di" with a "Servo suo."
Barto undertook to lead a troop against the Buon Consiglio barracks, while Angelo and Rinaldo cleared the ramparts. It chanced, whether from treachery or extra-vigilance was unknown, that the troops paid domiciliary visits an hour before the intended outbreak, and the three were left to accomplish their task alone.
Salvatore stood by him, smiling at him, Salvatore with bare feet, and a fish-basket slung over his arm. "Buon giorno, Salvatore!" he answered, with an effort. Salvatore looked at Maurice's cigarette, put down the basket, and sat down on the seat by Maurice's side. "I haven't smoked to-day, signore," he began. "Dio mio! But it must be good to have plenty of soldi!" "Ecco!"
At the New Buon Gusto you will find a most excellent cippino with polenti, and if you have not experienced this we advise you to try it as soon as possible. At the Gianduja you will find sand-dabs au gratin to be very fine. At Jack's, striped bass cooked in wine is what we think the best of the fish to be found in the market, or at the restaurants, cooked that way.
Upon the forefinger of his left hand he displayed a thick snake-ring of tarnished metal, and he had a large, overblown rose in his button-hole. His mustaches had been carefully waxed, his hair cropped, and his hawklike, subtle, and yet violent face well washed for the great occasion. With bold familiarity he seized Maurice's hand. "Buon giorno, signore. Come sta lei?" "Benissimo."
We wished one another boas entradas, the 'buon' principio' of Italy, and remembered the procession of seventeen years ago. The life-sized figures, coarsely carved in wood and dressed in real clothes, were St. Francis, St. The several platforms, carried by the brotherhoods in purple copes, were preceded by the clergy with banners and crosses and were followed by soldiers.
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