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With a sickness of the legs like the rheumatism, for example, one eats, one sleeps, only one cannot walk or stand for many hours." In spite of his efforts to the contrary, the wonder and admiration grew deeper in Luigi's eyes. "Thou thinkest the ?" "I am sure," now that Luigi was reduced to the proper state of humility Biaggio gave up his attitude of distant oracle, and leaned close.
"She said, 'Paula, if the boy disturbs us further, we must take measures." "The Signorina?" "Her mother." "Not the Signorina, then!" And Luigi's gloomy face grew radiant. "She and her mother are one," replied Paula. Luigi was silent for a moment. One could see the shadows falling over him. Then he said, softly, "My Paula, you will befriend me?"
His eyes fell at once on the little group. Mr. Bundercombe turned round. "So that is Monsieur Giatron?" Louis bowed. Mr. Bundercombe beckoned the proprietor to approach. "An old patron of Luigi's," Mr. Bundercombe explained, introducing himself "come round to see our friend Louis, here." "Delighted, I am very sure!" Mr. Giatron exclaimed, bowing to all of us.
I was disturbed at last by the coming of a page to my chamber with the announcement that my lord was already at supper. I had thoughts of excusing myself, but in the end I went. The repast was spread, as usual, in the banqueting-hall of the castle; and about the splendid table was Pier Luigi's company, amounting to nigh upon a score in all.
None dreamed, of course, that aught but equal leisure existed for our little table, where sat a rather lank and shabby man in flannels, and a very especially beautiful young woman in half evening dress. At Luigi's, every one is polite to every one else, and the curiosity is but that of fraternity. Perhaps, some eyes were cast our way, I could not tell.
"Signorina!" he shook his body over her hand with a most plaintive utterance. "You are my countryman, Luigi?" "Yes, signorina." "You are an Italian?" "Certainly, signorina!" "A spy!" Vittoria had not always to lift her voice in music for it to sway the hearts of men. She spoke the word very simply in a mellow soft tone. Luigi's blood shot purple. He thrust his fists against his ears.
He turned his back, and the two panes were quickly covered with delicately lined oval spots, but visible only to such persons as could get a dark background for them the foliage of a tree, outside, for instance. Then upon call, Wilson went to the window, made his examination, and said: "This is Count Luigi's right hand; this one, three signatures below, is his left.
The descriptive aptness of the phrase caught the house, and a mighty burst of laughter followed. Luigi's southern blood leaped to the boiling point in a moment under the sharp humiliation of this insult delivered in the presence of four hundred strangers. It was not in the young man's nature to let the matter pass, or to delay the squaring of the account.
I've enjoyed Signor Gennaro's singing often enough at the opera to want to render him this service, and I'm only too glad to be able to be of service to all honest Italians; that is, if I succeed in carrying out a plan I have in mind." A little before nine the following day Kennedy and I dropped into Luigi's again.
When Ginevra felt like weeping as she watched Luigi's worn and suffering face, she redoubled her caresses; and Luigi, keeping his dark forebodings in the depths of his soul, expressed to his Ginevra the tenderest love. They sought a compensation for their troubles in exalting their feelings; and their words, their joys, their caresses became suffused, as it were, with a species of frenzy.
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