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Updated: June 1, 2025
At length, however, he managed to calm himself somewhat and was just sinking into a sort of half slumber when he was suddenly roused by a wild, far echoing cry that caused him to leap instantly from his bed. The cry was a woman's, and he thought he recognized the voice, of Annunziata Solara.
"It is a great blessing to be allowed to see a miracle performed with your own eyes." "So it is," agreed John. "And if you keep your eyes well open, there's not a minute of the livelong day when you mayn't see one." "It is very strange," said Annunziata, "but when the sun shines, then I love the sunny weather, and am glad that it does not rain.
He could not convince the former flower-girl, he could not even shake her convictions! He had failed with her as Monte-Cristo had previously failed at the Refuge in Civita Vecchia! Up to this time he had continued to hold Annunziata's hand, but now he dropped it as if it had been some venomous serpent. Annunziata was deeply affected, but her emotion arose from an altogether different cause.
By means of shrewdly managed questions the young Viscount had ascertained that the flower-girl had no lover, that her breast had never owned the tender passion, and this intelligence added fuel to the flame that was consuming him. It is not to be supposed that Annunziata was ignorant of the strong impression she had made upon her youthful and handsome patient.
"The music of what?" she questioned. "Sh-h!" whispered Annunziata. "I would not dare to say it aloud. The music of Divopan." "Divopan?" Maria Dolores puzzled, compliantly guarding her tone. "What is that?" "Divo Pan," said Annunziata, dividing the word in two, and always with an air of excessive caution. But Maria Dolores helplessly shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't understand.
So, when you are fifty, how old shall I be?" "No," said Annunziata, shaking her head. "That trick has been tried with me before. My friend Prospero has tried it with me. You hope I will say that you will be a hundred. But it is not so. When I am fifty, you will be sixty-one, going on sixty-two." Still again the lady laughed, apparently with great amusement.
"You have a remarkably solid little head, for all its curls, there's no confusing it," said he. "Well, have you your report, drawn up, signed, sealed, sworn to before a Commissioner for Oaths, and ready to be delivered?" "My report ?" questioned Annunziata, with a glance. "About the Form," said John. "I caught you yesterday red-handed in the fact of pumping it." "Yes," said Annunziata.
"Oh, no," answered Annunziata, her pale face very sober, and she lengthened out her vowels in deprecation of the idea. "At least, it would be gluttony if he did." "There you are," cried John. "And gluttony is not the undeadliest of the Seven Deadly Sins. So, then, unless you would have me guilty of the deadly sin of gluttony, you must agree that I have not dined.
The surface of this mass presented a rocky and sterile aspect, strongly opposed to the exuberance of vegetation in the more fortunate neighborhood. Passing through Torre del Annunziata, a populous village, the street of which was literally lined with maccaroni hanging to dry, I soon reached Pompeii.
From the dulness of the chink in the only case when I heard it, I judged it to be a small copper coin. In the inner part of this chapel is preserved a miraculous picture of the "Santissima Annunziata," painted by angels, and held in such holy repute that forty thousand dollars have lately been expended in providing a new crown for the sacred personage represented.
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