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A vendor of melons drew his barrow close up to the battered old column in the Piazza Tolomei, and squatted down on the ground beside it. "Cocomeri! Fresc' e buoni!" he cried once or twice, and then rolled over and went to sleep. A peasant girl carrying a basket of eggs passed presently, and she looked wistfully at the fruit, but she did not disturb his slumbers.
One of the alfieri laughed aloud. "O Romeo, sei bello!" "Son' felice!" he answered, and he kissed the waxen petals ardently. Olive softly clapped her hands together. "Is he not delicious! What an actor! Oh, Italy!" Now that the performance was over the alfieri strolled across the piazza to the barrow that was still drawn up by the column. "Cocomeri! Fresc' e buoni!"
And here are luscious figs bursting with seedy sweetness, and apricots rusted in the sun, and velvety peaches that break into juice in your mouth, and great black-seeded cocomeri. Nature empties her cornucopia of fruits and flowers and vegetables all over your table. Luxuriously you enjoy them and fan yourself and take your siesta, with full appreciation of your dolce far niente.
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