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Updated: June 23, 2025
The Count de Lloseta and John Craik were sitting together in the editorial room of the Commentator. It was a quiet room, with double windows and a permanent odour of tobacco smoke. An empty teacup stood on the table by John Craik's elbow. "Name of God!" Cipriani de Lloseta had ejaculated when he saw it. "At eleven o'clock in the morning!" "Must stir the brain up," was the reply.
Some played a losing game from the beginning, and others played without quite knowing the stake. Some held to certain rules, while others made the rules as they went along as children do ignorant of the tears that must inevitably follow. But Fate placed all the best cards in Mrs. Harrington's hand. Luke and the Count Cipriani de Lloseta went out of the house together.
"Uncle and I," she added, "are not beaten yet." Cipriani de Lloseta smiled darkly. "Will you promise me one thing," he said; "that when you are beaten you will come to me before you go to any one else?" "Yes," answered Eve, "I think we can promise that." He conquers who awaits the end. Fortune fixed her wayward fancy on the first sketch that Eve contributed to the Commentator.
Sir Joshua promised 'The Nativity'; West offered his picture of 'Moses with the Laws'; Barry, Dance, Cipriani, and Angelica Kauffman engaged to present other paintings; and four other artists were afterwards added to the number. But the trustees of the building Cornwallis, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Terrick of London disapproved.
Here Cipriani de Lloseta walks gravely in the evening to be more precise, on Tuesday or Friday evening about five o'clock, when the boat sails for Majorca. He stands, a lonely, cloaked figure, at the end of the long stone pier, and his dark Spanish eyes rest on the steamer as it glides away into the darkening east and south.
He is always dreaming of it in Spain, where he is a Spaniard in England, where he might be an Englishman. It is not every one of us who has a home from whence his name is derived, who signs his letters with a word that is marked upon the map. Such is Cipriani of that name, who has now left the Rambla and is wandering along the deserted pier.
He was generally of a cheerful temperament, but since the new regulations were enforced it had been noticed that his whole disposition had changed. He became thoughtful and dejected, and one day made known to Cipriani his deliberate intention to shoot the Governor the first time he came to Longwood.
So fear-struck was Larry that he chattered and grimaced like an ape, and shouldered and struggled to get away from the dark and into the safety of the shaft of light that shone out of the chart-house. Tony, the Greek, was just as bad, mumbling to himself and continually crossing himself. He was joined in this, as a sort of chorus, by the two Italians, Guido Bombini and Mike Cipriani.
The Count de Lloseta bowed as he made this remark, and looked at his companion with a smile. At times Mrs. Harrington gave way to a momentary panic in respect to Cipriani de Lloseta when she was not feeling very well, perhaps. Her situation seemed to be somewhat that of a commander holding an impregnable position against a cunning foe.
He then proceeded to relate how Cipriani had undertaken to paint for Horace Walpole a scene from Boccaccio's Theodore and Honorio, familiar to all in the splendid translation of Dryden, and, after several attempts, finding the subject too heavy for his handling, he said to Walpole, "I cannot please myself with a sketch from this most imaginative of Gothic fictions; but I know one who can do the story justice a man of great powers, of the name of Fuseli."
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