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Updated: June 5, 2025
It was not till I had bought my ticket and seated myself in the varnished tunnel of the ferry-boat that I was aware of having been diverted from my purpose by an overmastering anxiety for Don Egidio.
He seemed to make up for everything when he addressed Egidio with the 'tu' and waved him to turn one of the rotary pedestals of which the place was full. They were tremendous Italians at Carrara Lodge, and the secret of the part played by this fact in Peter's life was in a large degree that it gave him, sturdy Briton as he was, just the amount of 'going abroad' he could bear.
There are few classes of men more frugal in tastes and habit than the village priest in Italy; but Don Egidio, by his own account, had been introduced, at an impressionable age, to a way of living that must have surpassed his wildest dreams of self-indulgence.
During the weeks that followed I had no time to ask myself the meaning of it all. My one business was to keep him alive if I could. I fought the fever day and night, and at length it yielded. For the most part he raved or lay unconscious; but now and then he knew me for a moment, and whispered "Egidio" with a look of peace.
On this point the first stages of our acquaintance yielded much food for conjecture. At first sight Don Egidio was the image of cheerfulness. He had all the physical indications of a mind at ease: the leisurely rolling gait, the ready laugh, the hospitable eye of the man whose sympathies are always on the latch.
"Egidio!" he said; and all at once I was no more than a straw on the torrent of his will. The chapel adjoined the room in which we sat. He opened the door, and in the twilight I saw the light glimmering before the Virgin's shrine and the old carved confessional standing like a cowled watcher in its corner.
Filippino Lippi Buffalmacco Mino da Fiesole The Dante quarter Dante and Beatrice Monna Tessa Gemma Donati Dante in exile Dante memorials in Florence The Torre della Castagna The Borgo degli Albizzi and the old palaces S. Ambrogio Mino's tabernacle Wayside masterpieces S. Egidio. Opposite the Bargello is a church with a very beautiful doorway designed by Benedetto da Rovezzano.
"Those eyes are wells of truth and she has been like a daughter to Marianna. Egidio! do I look like an old man?" "Quiet yourself, Roberto," I entreated. "Quiet myself? With this sting in my blood? A lover and an Austrian lover! Oh, Italy, Italy, my bride!" "I stake my life on her truth," I cried, "and who knows better than I? Has her soul not lain before me like the bed of a clear stream?"
Whatever be the sins of Egidio Gambara, he is no hypocrite, and he lets his enemies see his face unmasked." "But, then," I cried, amazed, "why do you offer me my freedom?" "Because this cursed populace is in such a temper that if you are brought to trial I know not what may happen.
"It would be any other man's; not an Italian's." I was silent: in those days the argument seemed unanswerable. At length I said: "No harm can come to her while you are away. Donna Marianna and I are here to watch over her. And when you come back " He looked at me gravely. "If I come back " "Roberto!" "We are men, Egidio; we both know what is coming.
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