United States or Equatorial Guinea ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I will have no poachers, mind. Let notices be posted up at the town-gate and at the church-door do you hear? No one shall carry a gun within my woods." Silvestro's lips form to two single words, and these come very faint: "The poor!" Then he holds himself together, terrified. "The poor!" retorts the marchesa, defiantly "the poor! For shame, Silvestro!
"You do not believe in free will?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I do not think about such things." "Well," she said impatiently. "Is that all you have to say? I suppose the Marchesa and Mamie are here too." He hesitated and seemed to lose some of his assurance. "No, we quarrelled. The girl is insupportable. She is engaged now to a lord of sorts, an Englishman, and they are still in Cairo."
Herdegen and I would walk with her. After a grievous yet hopeful leave-taking I came home again, leaning on his arm, through the cool autumn night. When I now admonished Herdegen as we walked, as to the fair Marchesa and her letter, he declared to me that in those evil weeks he had spent in bitter yearning as a serving man in the bee-keeper's hut, he had learned to know his own mind.
The air was dry, hot and full of life and sound, as it is in the far south in summer. "And when do you propose to marry me?" asked Beatrice in a discontented tone. "Dearest child," answered her mother, "you speak as though I were marrying you by force to a man whom you detest." "That is exactly what you are doing." The Marchesa raised her eyebrows, fanned herself lazily and smiled.
Alas! that poor fellow, meseems, bears but little likeness to my noble Herdegen, on whose arm the Italian Marchesa riveted her golden fetter. His face is swollen and bloodshot in one part, and cruelly torn in others. Where are the lovelocks that graced him so well? His left arm is helpless, his rich attire hangs about him in rags.
"Do you suppose that the Marchesa di Negra could have condescended to an alliance with a Mr. Hazeldean " "Condescended! a Hazeldean of Hazeldean!" exclaimed the squire, turning fiercely, and half choked with indignation. "Unless," continued the count, imperturbably, "she had been compelled by circumstances to do that said Mr.
"Would any one marry a Sansevero when there is a Scorpa to choose!" "It has happened," chuckled the princess. The threatening break in their habitual politeness was averted by the arrival of a third old lady, the Marchesa Valdeste.
As old Carlotta puts these questions she sways her body to and fro, and raises her finger to her nose. "Who is strong, and square, and fair, and smooth?" "Who goes in and out with a smile on his face? Who? who?" "Why, Nobili, of course Count Nobili. We all know that," answered Brigitta, impatiently. "That's no news. But what has Nobili to do with the marchesa?"
Proverbially, with us, happy marriages and happy homes are found not in the gay circles of London fashion, but at the hearths of our rural nobility, our untitled country gentlemen. And who, amongst all your adorers, can offer you a lot so really enviable as the one whom, I see by your blush, you already guess that I refer to?" "Did I blush?" said the marchesa, with a silvery laugh.
She had many a time been seen abroad with the Marchesa, or with the Polanis, and the young gentlemen of the Signoria, the painters, and the poets, had marked her well; the natural golden hue of her hair was an amazement and a delight to the Italians; indeed many a black-haired lady and common hussy would sit on her roof vainly striving to take the color out of her own locks.
Word Of The Day