Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 6, 2025
"Since you do not love him " began the sailor in a tone of doubt. "Not him, but another." "And that other " "It is perhaps you, Bastianello," said Teresina, growing rather pale again. "Me!" He could only utter the one word just then. "Yes, you." "My love!" Bastianello's arm went gently round her, and he whispered the words in her ear.
"You do not want to marry Ruggiero!" Bastianello's expression certainly betrayed more surprise than disappointment. But he had honestly pleaded his brother's cause. "Then you do not love him," he said, as though unable to recover from his astonishment. "But no I do not love him at all, though he is so handsome and good."
There was not much eloquence about the courtship, as there had been about San Miniato's, and there was not the fierce passion in Bastianello's breast that was eating up his brother's heart.
That is what I cannot tell any one, not even you." "Then I will not ask. But I think I know, now." Going over the events of the past weeks in his mind, it had suddenly flashed upon Bastianello that his brother loved Beatrice. Then everything explained itself in an instant. Ruggiero was such a gentleman in Bastianello's eyes, of course it was like him to break his heart for a real lady.
Yet Beatrice, at least, would have changed places with Teresina if she could, and San Miniato could have held his head higher if there had ever been as much honesty in him as there was in Bastianello's every thought and action.
Teresina would have clapped her hands in applause had she dared, but she did not, and contented herself with trying to see into Bastianello's eyes. She was very near him as she sat furthest forward in the stern-sheets and he pulled the starboard stroke oar, leaning forward upon the loom, as the gust filled the sails and the boat needed no pulling.
Teresina grasped Bastianello's hand and sprang ashore, happy as a child at the touch. San Miniato was about to follow and had already risen from his seat. But with a strong turn of his hand Ruggiero made the stern of the skiff swing out across the narrow water that is twenty fathoms deep between the mountain and the islet. "What are you doing?" asked San Miniato impatiently. "Let me land!"
Then Bastianello, my brother, would wait in the road in the evening for Don Gennaro, and would lay a hand on him, perhaps, or both. And I think that Don Gennaro would rather be dead in his telegraph office than alive in Bastianello's hands, because Bastianello is very strong in his hands, Excellency. And that is all the truth."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking