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Here a truly illuminating result was attained by the simple device of using the indicative for the conditional mood as in Juvenal's famous comment on Cicero's second Philippic: Antoni gladios potuit contemnere si sic omnia dixisset.
"Of course not, Nina," he said, at once; "I was only joking but you know he did use to sing that confounded 'Antoniella, Antoni
It is not very likely, thank God, that we should see either. But the radical, we think, runs as much danger as the aristocrat. As to our friend the Westminster Reviewer, he, it must be owned, has as good a right as any man on his side, "Antoni gladios contemnere."
"Open the door.... Do not abandon me. Remember that I am going to my death if you do not save me." Ferragut heard her, and, in order to evade her moaning, was getting as near as possible to the end of his stateroom. Then he unfastened the round window that opened on the deck, ordering a seaman to go after the mate. "Don Antoni! Don Antoni!" various voices cried the whole length of the ship.
He was quite sure of what God wanted, and difficulties simply did not count. lie was called to be a Jesuit, and a Jesuit he would be. If he could not gain admission into the Society in Vienna, well, he would try elsewhere. But even with his mind fairly made up, he sought more guidance. A young Portuguese Jesuit, Father Antoni, had lately come to Vienna as preacher to the Empress Maria.
Yes, here he was in the theatre again, with all its trivial distractions and interests, and also its larger excitements and ambitions and rewards, not the least of which was the curious fascination he found in holding a great audience hushed and enthralled, listening breathlessly to every far-reaching, passionate note. Then his reappearance on the stage brought him a renewal of all the friendly little attentions and hospitalities that had been interrupted by his leaving for Scotland; for if certain of his fashionable acquaintance were still away at their country houses, there were plenty of others who had returned to town. Club life had begun again, too. But most of all, at this time, Lionel was disposed to enjoy that quiet and gentle companionship with Nina, which was so simple and frank and unreserved. He could talk to her freely, on all subjects save one and that he was trying to put away from himself in these altered circumstances. He and she had a community of interests; there was never any lack of conversation whether he were down in Sloane Street, drinking tea and trying over new music with her, or walking in with Miss Girond and her to the theatre through the now almost leafless Green Park. Sometimes, when she was grown petulant and fractious, he had to scold her into good-humor; sometimes she had seriously to remonstrate with him; but it was all given and taken in good part. He was never embarrassed or anxious in her society; he was happy and content and careless, as she appeared to be also. He did not trouble to invent any excuse for calling upon her; he went down to Sloane Street just whenever he had a spare half-hour or hour; and if the morning was bright, or even passable (for it was November now, and even a tolerable sort of day was welcome), and if Miss Girond did not wish to go out or had some other engagement, Nina and he would set off for a stroll by themselves, up into Kensington Gardens, it might be, or along Piccadilly, or through the busy crowds of Oxford Street; while they looked at the shops and the passers-by, and talked about the theatre and the people in it or about old days in Naples. There was no harm; and they thought no harm. Sometimes he could hear her hum to herself a fragment of one of the old familiar canzoni "Antoniella Antoni
He beckoned him aside and whispered: "Wait for me a minute. I just want to say a word to Father Antoni." Then he hurried away, but was back shortly at his friend's side, eyes dancing, lips smiling, hand outstretched. "I have just bid Father Antoni good-by," he said, with a little excitement. "I am running away. I am going to Augsburg' to ask admission into the Society of Jesus.
"The people now saw through it all. The women were impatient to spread the news. As we left, la Soberana, humiliated and in tears, tried to kneel before the doctor and kiss his hand. 'Ay, Don Antoni!... Don Antoni! She asked pardon for her insults; she despaired when she thought of the village comments.
'Thank God! thought the dazed man. 'If the devil hadn't led them this way, I might have been here till the morning. They are fine fellows! 'The ladies are afraid to drive down the hill, some one shouted from the distance. 'Then let them get out and walk! 'The sledges had better not go down. 'Why not? Go on, Antoni! 'I don't advise it, sir. 'Then get off and be hanged! I'll drive myself!
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