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Is she ill? Is he? I am midway between hell and paradise. "O mia cara diva, keep up your music, exercise your voice, practise. I am enchanted with the coincidence of employments and hours by which, though separated by the Alps, we live by precisely the same rule. The thought charms me and gives me courage.
Vettori: 'Starommi dunque così tra i miei cenci, senza trovare uomo che della mia servitù si ricordi, o che creda che io possa esser buono a nulla. Ma egli è impossibile che io possa star molto così, perchè io mi logoro, etc.
You will wonder less at my rambling off in this way, when I tell you that my little lodging is close to a picturesque old Church and Churchyard, where, every day, I brush past a tombstone, recording that an Italian, of Manferrato, has buried there a girl of sixteen, his only daughter: 'L' unica speranza di mia vita. No doubt, as you say, our Mechanical Age is necessary as a passage to something better; but, at least, do not let us go back."
"Goin' on eighteen," she would have answered nonchalantly to any one else; for him there woke from the depths of her nature a fierce retort: "Give us that basket! I ain't a-goin' to let you carry it a speck further." "ALL right," he acquiesced with broad, kind humor, vet without relinquishing his burden. "ALL right, chiquita mia! Never you mind me, Little Peachey!"
The important facts are that such a poem exists and that a hint as to its music has come down to us. In the "Decameron" we are told often how some one or other of the personages sings to the company. Sometimes it is a dance song, as for example the "Io son si vaga della mia bellezza." To this all the others spontaneously dance while singing the refrain in chorus.
Dost thou not know it? Dost thou not love me a little? Ay, Elena! I have not slept one hour since I saw thee." She raised her eyes to his face. The sadness still dwelt in their depths, but above floated the soft flame of love and trust. She had no coquetry in her straightforward and simple nature. "Yes," she whispered, "I love thee." "And thou art happy, querida mia?
But since this may not be, Madonna mia, I would that this siege might last for ever." And then was it the night breeze faintly stirring through his hair that mocked him with the whisper, "So indeed would I?" He turned to her, his hand, brown and nervous, fell upon hers, ivory-white, where it rested on the stone.
Listen; in my house I have prepared a secret chamber, fifty feet square, plentifully supplied with healthful though plain provisions, and furnished with a tolerable degree of comfort. There will we dwell, until the curiosity of Mundus and the whispers of the metropolis are overpast. We will then re-appear in society, and assert our happiness. Bella, mia Bella, shall it be so?
A little hoard of bright treasures; red rubies, ay as red as blood-diamonds as brilliant as the glittering of crossed daggers sapphires as blue as the lightning pearls as pure as the little folded hands of a dead child opals as dazzlingly changeful as woman's love! Why do you start?" for she had moved restlessly in my embrace. "Do I use bad similes? Ah, cara mia, I am no poet!
Berlin, under the stars, is the sound of soldiers singing near the arch of the Brandenburger Tor, the peaceful bauer and his frau Hannah and his young daughters Lilla and Mia lodged before their abend bier at a bare table on the darker side of the far Jägerstrasse.
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