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Updated: May 3, 2025
"Domeniddio!" gasped the Commendatore, falling back in his chair. And I half think he would have pulled his moustaches out by their roots if Susanna had n't interceded with him to spare them. "Don't don't," she pleaded. "You won't have any left." "Domeniddio!" he gasped three separate times, on three separate notes. "If you're surprised," said Susanna, "think how much more surprised he will be."
'He throws over his Englishwoman, and he becomes Well, you said, 'Master of a noble estate. But a really gallant person might have said, 'Husband of a perfectly entrancing Italian woman." She pulled a little face. "Ha," laughed the Commendatore, briefly. "You must have your joke." And his hand instinctively made for his moustaches. "Well, I am sorry.
"Do you know, Signor Commendatore," he said, "some mystery surrounds that vessel. She is not the Lola, for yesterday we telegraphed to Lloyd's, in London, and this morning I received a reply that no such yacht appears on their register, and that the name is unknown. The police have also telegraphed to your English police inquiring about the owner, Signor Hornby, with a like result.
"Now, Commendatore," said Susanna, making her face grave, "listen, and you shall hear" but then her gravity broke down "of the midnight ride of Paul Revere," she concluded, laughing. She raised her eyes to his, aglow with that tender, appealing, mocking, defiant smile of hers.
You must not fail to command me' and patati and patata." "You are an outrageous little ape," said the Commendatore, grinning in spite of himself. "You would mimic the Devil to his face." "No," said Susanna. "I only mimic people when I am fond of them." And again she lifted her eyes to his, where they melted in her tender, teasing smile. "Ph-h-h," puffed the Commendatore, agitating his cap.
Now and then, in the course of conversation, the Marquise tried to get some tacit advice; but however eager her questioning, he was as grave and as rigid as the statue of the Commendatore.
"Well, signore," he said at last in a low tone of confidence, "I don't like to trouble you with my private affairs after those untruths I told you when we last met." "Go on," I said. "Tell me the truth." After the exciting incidents of our last meeting, I was half inclined to doubt him. "The truth is, Signor Commendatore, that my wife has mysteriously disappeared.
The Commendatore shrugged his shoulders, and gazed for commiseration at the sky. "You are incomprehensible," he said. "Haven't I spent an hour telling you he is affianced to a lady in England?" "No," said Susanna; "only something like ten minutes." "Brrr," said the Commendatore, contemptuous of the quibble. "And anyhow, I shall marry him," said Susanna.
"Is the man born who will say no to a bag of gold?" "That's exactly what you have now an opportunity of discovering," she replied. "But if he says yes, I give you my solemn promise, it will be the end of him, so far as I 'm concerned." The Commendatore rubbed the back of his neck. "I never heard such a gallimaufry of headless and tailless nonsense," he declared.
There's no use trying to open up the past." "H'm," said Susanna, on a key of doubt. "And then, with my heart in the business, for I had seen that he was of the right stuff, then I proposed a marriage," said the Commendatore. "I put it to him as strongly as I could. I painted the advantages in vivid colours. But it was no good. He cannot marry you. He is already betrothed."
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