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Updated: May 31, 2025
One of the musical pieces which the poet composed for this last opera found its way into "Mefistofele," for which work "Ero e Leandro" seems to have been abandoned. He also translated Wagner's "Tristan und Isolde" into Italian.
For a moment she remained silent, then, face averted, laid her finger on the book beside her. "That," she said unsteadily. He read aloud: "Lamour's Disease. A Treatise in sixteen volumes by Ero S. Lamour, M.D., M.S., F.B.A., M.F.H." "All that?" he asked guiltily. "I don't know, Mr. Carden. Are you laughing at me? Do you not believe me?"
Why a shore-going flunky had him bluffed for smoking a surreptitious cigarette in high quarters! 'Ero? Not 'im. Why 'e don't even wear a uniform. So there they are, the wheezing old cargo boats and their officers and crew. British, French, Italian, American, but mostly British. No heroes, but the Lord help their people if they hadn't stayed on the job.
"There's only two jobs now," said Mrs. 'Ero Edwards, "wot you never see a woman doin', and one's a burglar, an' the other's a scarecrow." Jay said, "The lady burglars would be so clever they'd never get into the papers, and the lady scarecrows would be so attractive that they'd fascinate the birds." And then Mrs.
The little house was empty but for her. I ought perhaps to have told you before that Nana had been taken ill a month or so ago, and had gone away at Jay's expense to a South Coast Home. "I'll go round and see Mrs. 'Ero Edwards," said Jay, when she had changed into mufti. "Neither Chloris nor David is adequate to the moment." The ground-floor back room of Mrs. 'Ero Edwards was crowded.
He was took to a 'ospital and the papers was full of 'ow he saved the life of the rich Miss Portman. Well, she used to go to see 'im a lot. When he got so's he could 'obble around, she took 'im out driving and so on. He was a fair-spoken chap in them days and he 'ad a good face. So she fell desperit in love with 'im. He was an 'ero. She told 'er father she was going to marry 'im.
This is, however, the language he uses about nearly all foreigners Spaniards, French, and English. Lib. i. cap. 96. "Io ero tutto armato di maglia con istivali grossi e con uno scoppietto in mano, e pioveva quanto Iddio ne sapeva mandare," &c. Lib. i. cap. 98. Ib. cap. 101. See lib. i. cap. 38, 43.
Paesiello's "Didone," Paer's "Ero e Leandro," and Guglielmi's "Deborah e Sisera" rapidly succeeded, each one confirming afresh the admiration of her hearers, who were all cognoscenti, as Italian audiences generally are.
Marston put her head out, very sleepy, and asked who it was. 'The conquering 'ero! said Vessons, as Edward and Hazel came up the path, deeply shadowed. He got into the trap and drove off. 'Well, Undern'll be summat like itself again now, he thought. 'It was a deal more peaceable without her, naughty girl! thought Mrs. Marston as she sadly and lethargically put on her clothes.
Then thee aren't the 'ero sent down from London by the story writer?" "Not by THAT one," said the young man diffidently. The old man's face changed. It was no mere figure of speech: it actually was ANOTHER face that looked down upon the traveler.
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