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Mr. Mountague, as three of those roses, one of them in full blow, one half blown, and another a pretty bud, caught his eye, recollected a passage in Berkeley's romance of Gaudentio di Lucca. "Did you ever happen to meet with Gaudentio di Lucca? do you recollect the story of Berilla, Lady Augusta?" said he. "No; I have never heard of Berilla: what is the story?" said she.
If Signor Gaudentio di Lucca, still keeping himself alive by means of his marvellous knowledge of the secrets of Nature, were to appear before me now on this mountain to inform me that the sacred community he resided with in Central Africa was no mere dream, and should offer to conduct me to it, I should decline to go with him.
"I wish I had the book," said Mr. Mountague; "I cannot do it justice, but I will borrow it for you from Miss Helen Temple. I lent it to her some time ago; I dare say she has finished reading it." At these words, Lady Augusta's desire to have Gaudentio di Lucca suddenly increased; and she expressed vast curiosity to know the story of Berilla.
It was with some difficulty that he asked Helen for Gaudentio di Lucca, and with yet greater difficulty that he took leave of her.
Generally speaking, all the great events have been distorted, most of the important causes concealed, some of the principal characters never appear, and all who figure are so misunderstood and misrepresented, that the result is a complete mystification, and the perusal of the narrative about as profitable to an Englishman as reading the Republic of Plato or the Utopia of More, the pages of Gaudentio di Lucca or the adventures of Peter Wilkins.
Upon the table, near a neat work-basket, which he knew to be Helen's, lay an open book; it was Gaudentio di Lucca. Mr. Mountague recollected the bud he had given to Lady Augusta, and he began to whistle, but not for want of thought.
Mountague gathered three roses, a bud, a half-blown and a full-blown rose, and playfully presented them to Lady Augusta for her choice. "I'm dying to see this Gaudentio di Lucca; you'll get the book for me to-morrow from Miss Helen Temple, will you?" said Lady Augusta, as she with a coquettish smile took the rose-bud, and put it into her bosom.
A book, which counts here from the time of its appearance, and from a certain oddity and air of "key" about it, rather than from much merit as literature, or any as a story, is the Adventures of Gaudentio di Lucca by Simon Berington.
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