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Updated: May 22, 2025
"But it was Craford in the visitors' book at the Palazzo Rosso. That's how we knew you were here." "My brother is the Hereditary Constable of the Palace," said Baldo. "It is now merely an honorary office. But the visitors' book is brought to him whenever there have been any visitors." "And we inquired for Craford downstairs," supplemented Franco. "And they said you were at home, and showed us up."
As she spoke, I think Anthony beheld his own air-vision of Sampaolo; I fancy the familiar park of Craford, the smooth, well-groomed, well-fed English landscape, melted away; I doubt if he saw anything of the actual save the white form, the strenuous face, the shining eyes, of his informant.
But I won't leave Craford." "You have promised," said she. "Ah, but I did n't dream there would be any question of my leaving Craford. There's a woman at Craford I 'm in love with. I won't leave Craford." "You have solemnly promised," said she. "Hang my promise," gaily he outfaced her. "Promises are sacred." She looked serious. "Not promises extorted in the dark," contended he.
There was a time when Craford used to seem to me the tritest spot in Europe, and the thought of Italy was luminous of everything romantic, of everything to be desired. There was a time when nothing gave me such joy as to wake and remember, 'I am in Italy in Italy in Italy! in Rome or Florence or Venice, as the case might be. But the times have changed, have changed.
What if she had taken me at my word? Then you can offer yourself to your cousin, and let us hope she 'll accept you." Again, as he made to speak, her hand silenced him. "But if," she went on, "if, by any chance, you should not thank me, if, in cold blood, with your eyes open, you should decide that the woman you left at Craford is worth it, why, then you can return to her, and renew your suit.
And then you must ask yourself in cold blood, 'Is that woman I left at Craford really worth it?" She smiled. But, as he made to speak, her hand commanded silence. "No, no," she said. "You have not seen them yet, so you can't tell. When you have seen them, you will very likely thank me for leaving you free to-day. You will think, with a shudder, 'Good heavens, what a narrow escape!
But we hope to carry you off with us now in time for luncheon." "I don't know how to thank you," said Adrian. "But I 'm afraid I hate to destroy an illusion, yet in honesty I must I 'm afraid I 'm not the person you take me for. I 'm afraid there's a misapprehension. "Oh, we 'll respect your incog all right, if that's what's troubling you," promised Baldo. "You shall be Mr. Anthony Craford."
What's the good of being free and independent," she largely argued, "if you can't do the things you want to? I 'm going to Craford to realise the aspiration of a lifetime. I 'm going to find out my cousin, and make his acquaintance, and see what he 's like. And then well, if he 's nice, who knows what may happen?
My ultimate destination, you must know," she said, with a lightness which, I think, on the face of it was spurious, "is a little village in England a little village called Craford; and" she smiled convincingly "I hear that the cuisine is not to be depended upon in little English villages." All the Commendatore's anxieties had revived. This time he frowned in grim earnest.
You were in Italy in those days, and now you are at Craford. Italy is dust and ashes. I hunger for Craford as the only place in the world where life is life." And on still another page: "I can't deny that I got a certain emotion in the grey old Cathedral. For so many generations one's people were baptized there, married there, buried there.
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