United States or Botswana ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Gerald gave a sound of raging disgust. Aurora waited, watching him. "Was it very bad?" she asked finally, and held her breath for his answer. "Just as bad as possible. Ceccherelli deserves to be flayed. Is the man mad? And what, may I ask, did you say to De Brézé?" "I only remember it was something about ermine. I forgot until this moment that I meant to ask Italo what the joke was about ermine.
He had been obliged to give his word that he knew on absolutely good authority who this person was. His attention, on the other hand, was complete when she told him how she had dealt with Ceccherelli; she was considerate enough to-day to make the effort to pronounce the gentleman's cognomen. "I was savage at him, you remember," she said. "I was going to take his head off.
All I can think of is Checkerberry." "Yes, yes, we are acquainted," said Gerald, hurriedly. "We have seen each other many times. Come sta?" "Oh, he can speak English." "A leetle," Ceccherelli modestly admitted. "He understands everything I say. We have great conversations. He comes every evening when he isn't engaged to play somewhere else."
"I've done it for Italo when he was playing my accompaniment. For nobody else." "Mrs. Hawthorne, if that little man has become your singing-master, will you not intrust me with the honorable charge of likewise teaching you something? No, not painting. I should like to drill you in the pronunciation of that little man's name. It is Ceccherelli. Cec-che-rel-li. Cec-che-rel-li." She shook her head.
On a platform raised in one corner of the ball-room sat the little orchestra assembled and conducted by Signor Ceccherelli, who, from his mien, might have been the creator of these musicians and originator of all music. Charlie Hunt was floor-master, and busy enough. Another might perhaps have done as much and not appeared so busy. The cotillion especially gave him a great deal to do.
You can interrogate Signor Ceccherelli, who has really distinguished himself in his quality of habitué of this house and your particular friend." "I know you're angry, Gerald; I don't wonder you're ready to call names. But the thing is simple, isn't it, after all, now that I understand. The harm done isn't such as can never be mended.
Hawthorne," said Gerald, "you have repeatedly said that you have what you call lots of fun with Ceccherelli. Would you mind giving me an idea of what the fun consists in? I wish to have light that I may do the man justice. Left to myself, I should judge him to be the dullest, commonest, cheapest of inexpressibly vulgar, insignificant, pretentious, ugly, and probably dishonest, little men."
She went to sit on the gorgeous brocade sofa, arranging herself amid the multitude of cushions so as to listen long and happily. Estelle preferring a straight-backed chair, Gerald took the other corner of Aurora's sofa. Immediately Ceccherelli opened with "Souvenir de Sainte-Hélène." Aurora, respectful to the artist, talked in a whisper. "He's so talented!
Word Of The Day