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Updated: June 19, 2025
For a certain art of asking of Italy all she can give, you must doubtless either be a rare <i>raffine</i> or a rare genius, a sophisticated Norseman or just a Gabriele d' Annunzio.
The house was completely gutted; the widow of Don Annunzio had the clothes she stood in, and nothing beside. She stood quietly by while her husband's body was laid in the grave beside that of young Cerito; a shallow grave, hastily dug in what had lately been the garden. She listened with the same quiet face while good old Don Miguel, with faltering voice, recited a Latin prayer.
The poet prophet has so long abdicated his rights among us moderns that we are incredulous when told that he has again exercised his function. That is the reason why the story of a poet's part in leading the Italian people toward their decision is received by Americans with such skeptical humor. And Gabriele d' Annunzio in the role!
Hasten quickly!" A woman appeared in the doorway; tall and lean, clad in brown calico, with a sun-bonnet to match, but with apron and kerchief as snowy as Don Annunzio's "ducks." "For the land's sake!" said Señora Carreno. Rita looked up quickly. "Visitors, my love!" Don Annunzio explained rapidly, in good enough English.
Her eyes had grown accustomed to sights like these, and the bright whiteness of house and householder, the trim array of flower-beds and kitchen-garden, struck her as strange and artificial. She felt as if Don Annunzio ought to be wound up from behind, and was whimsically surprised to see him rise and come forward to meet them. Carlos made his explanation, and presented General Sevillo's letter.
Thus Don Annunzio, with many nods and winks, and gestures of dramatic caution. His words fanned the flame of Rita's zeal, and she longed for one of the promised nocturnal visits. That night and the next she was constantly waking, listening for a whisper, the clank of a chain, the jingle of a spur; but none came, and the nights passed as peacefully as the days.
The dozen, and more, were completed; and then, in spite of her vow, Rita found time to make one for herself, certainly as pretty a hat as heart could desire. So pretty, Rita thought it a thousand pities that there was no one beside Don Annunzio and Marm Prudence to see her in it. She sighed, and thought of the camp among the hills, of Carlos and the General, and Don Uberto.
Have no fear, Don Annunzio; it was you who discovered the fever, you know. "'But the smell, my child? there must be something bad here, something unhealthy; a vile smell! "She laughs again, this child. 'I burned a piece of tortoise-shell, she says. 'Saint Ursula forgive me, it was one of the señorita's side-combs, but there was nothing else at hand.
Knopf. 2. #Andreiev.# When the King Loses His Head. International Bk. Pub. 3. #Annunzio.# Tales of My Native Town. Modern Greek Stories. Duffield. 5. #Chekhov.# The Chorus Girl. Macmillan. 6. #Dostoevsky.# The Honest Thief. Czecho-Slovak Stories. Duffield. 8. #Level.# Tales of Mystery and Horror. Short Stories from the Spanish. Boni & Liveright. 10. #Mayran.# Story of Gotton Connixloo. Dutton.
Annunzio, Gabriele d', at Fiume. Arabia, disposition. See also Near East. Arbitral Tribunal, in Lansing's plan. Arbitration, as form of peace promotion; in Lansing's plan; in Wilson's original draft; in Cecil plan; in Treaty. See also Diplomatic adjustment; Judicial settlement. Armenia, mandate for; protectorate. See also Near East. Armistice, American conference on.
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