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Updated: May 28, 2025
"She schemed for it from her first arrival here aimed avowedly to herself at nothing less than inducing the Marchese di Castelmare to marry her and succeeded. For all that, I'll tell you what, Adolfo there was a great deal more good in that poor girl than you would have thought." "Bah! Good in her Well, she's gone. She has had her reward, poor soul; and I pity her with all my heart.
Well, he's got all of Jonesville walkin' around ladders, and spittin' through crossed fingers, and countin' the spots on their nails. He interprets their dreams and locates lost articles." "Maybe he can tell me where to find Adolfo Urbina?" Dave suggested. "Humph! If he can't, Tad Lewis can. Say, Dave, this case of yours has stirred up a lot of feelin' against Tad.
One night when Amadeo came home from the Casino where he and Don Adolfo, with the druggist and a few other such-like worthies, were wont to meet every Saturday, he found the door of his shop ajar. This astonished him. He raised his voice and began to call: "Manolo! You, Manolo!" Rafaela answered him, from the back room of the house: "He's not here."
"I've got to take water," "Young Ed" told his visitors, "or I'll get myself into trouble." Then querulously he demanded of Adolfo: "Why in hell did you come here, anyhow? Why didn't you keep to the chaparral?" Adolfo shrugged. "I thought you were my friend." "Sure!" Tad agreed. "Urbina's been a friend to you, now you got to stick to him. We got to hang together, all of us.
The awarding of the Nobel Prize for Peace to Adolfo Perez Esquivel of Argentina for his non-violent advocacy of human rights.
Only Amadeo who just a bit after the discovery of the body had discovered Manolo washing a blood-stained handkerchief in a water-jar was certain that his son had done this murder. Once more the sinister words of Don Adolfo recurred to his mind, bruising him, maddening him, seeming to bore into his very brain: "He does not seem to be your son, at all!"
When the writer first called on him in New York with a note of introductio from his friend and admirer Adolfo Betti, and later at Scarsdale where, in company with his friend Thibaud, he was dividing his time between music and tennis, Ysaye made him entirely at home, and willingly talked of his art and its ideals.
There was a melancholy abandonment, heavy with remorse, in her sad and flabby face, in the humility of her look, in the slow, round fatness of her whole body. The ex-convict followed the advice of Don Adolfo and gave up all idea of devoting himself to farming. In the best street of the village, near the church, he set up a general repair-shop where he took in both wood and iron work.
The money which Alaire kept on hand for current expenses was locked in her safe, but he knew the combination. It was with an air of resignation, with a childish, half-hearted protest, that he counted out the desired amount into Lewis's hand, salving his conscience with the statement: "I'm doing this to help Adolfo out of his trouble, understand? I hope it'll enable you to square things."
Why did you do it?" Stolidly Zureda answered: "Oh, it was a quarrel over cards." "Yes, that's so; they told me about it." Amadeo breathed easy. The conductor knew nothing; and it seemed probable that many others should be as ignorant as he about what had driven him to kill Manolo. Don Adolfo asked: "Where have you been?" "At Ceuta." "A long time?" "Twenty years and some months." "The deuce!
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