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Updated: June 5, 2025
"Then follow me!" shouted the priest, swinging his strong arms above his head. Adamo leaped from the ladder. Others they were among the very poorest stepped out and joined him and the priest; but at the very entrance they were met and buffeted by such a gust of fiery wind, such sparks and choking smoke, that they all fell back aghast.
I don't understand," bursts out Adamo. "If you want any one shot, tell me who it is, padrona, and I will do it." "That would be murder, Adamo." The marchesa is standing very near him. Adamo sees the savage gleam that comes into her eyes. "If any one leaves the house to-night except Fra Pacifico, stop him, Adamo, stop him. You, or the dogs, or the gun no matter. Stop him, I command you.
We were talking, as I have said, of Perugino and his works, apropos of the spirit in which those of Signor Moretti have been conceived, and our friend Signor Adamo Rossi was present.
Through the open door the marchesa saw Adamo pass a sudden thought struck her. "Adamo!" "Padrona." And Adamo's bullet-head and broad shoulders fill up the doorway. "Where is Count Nobili?" "Along with the lawyer from Lucca." "He is safe, then, for the present," the marchesa told herself. Adamo could not speak for staring at his mistress as she stood opposite to him full in the light.
From the high ceiling, painted in gay frescoes, hangs a large chandelier; the bed is covered with red damask curtains. Such furniture as was available had been carried thither by Pipa and Adamo. One large window, reaching to the ground, looks westward over the low wall. The sun is setting. The mighty range of mountains are laced with gold; light, fleecy cloudlets float across the sky.
Argo alone would pin any one to the earth. "Let out the dogs, Adamo," the marchesa would say. "I like to hear them. They are my soldiers they defend me." "Yes, padrona," Adamo would reply, stolidly. "Surely the Signora Marchesa wants no other. Argo has the sense of a man when I discourse to him."
Again Nobili wound his arms round Enrica and drew her to him with passionate ardor. The thought of Count Marescotti had faded out like a bad dream at daylight. Enrica's blue eyes dimmed with tears. "Oh, do not weep, Enrica!" he cried. "Let the past go, love. Did the marchesa think that bolts and bars, and Adamo, and watch-dogs, would keep Nobili from you?" He gave a merry laugh.
Unless, therefore, we take for granted that Manso was intimate with the author Salandra he knew most of his literary countrymen and sent or gave to Milton a copy of the manuscript of 'Adamo' before it was printed, or that Milton was personally familiar with Salandra, we may conclude that the poem was forwarded to him from Italy by some other friend, perhaps by some member of the Accademia, degli Oziosi which Manso had founded.
My honor, the honor of my name. Quick, quick!" She lays her hand on his rough jacket and grasps it. Adamo, struck with superstitious awe, cannot speak. He nods. "The dogs are hungry, you say. Let them loose without feeding. No one must leave the house to-night. Do you understand? You must prevent it. Let the dogs loose." Again Adamo nods. He is utterly bewildered.
The fresh rush of air up the stairs has fanned the flames. Every moment they are rising higher. They redden on the dark rafters of the ceiling. The sparks fly about in dazzling clouds. Adamo is on the threshold. Outside it is now so dark that, spite of danger, he has to pause and feel his way downward, or he might dash his precious burden against the walls.
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