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Updated: May 26, 2025
He was with me yesterday, and I played over his first aria to him, with which he was very much pleased. The man is old, and can no longer show off in an aria like that in the second art, "Fuor del mar ho un mare in seno," &c. In the last scene also of the second act, Idomeneo has an aria, or rather a kind of cavatina, to sing between the choruses.
Dante seems to have expressed these conditions perfectly in that passage of the Purgatorio where, after a triple vision which has made him forget his surroundings, he says "Quando l'anima mia tornò di fuori Alle cose che son fuor di lei vere, Io riconobbi i miei non falsi errori."
Directing Bronson to intercept the Italian, Gregory explained: "I want to give Mascola another chance. We're not looking for trouble. He can lay to the seaward but he's got to give us sea-way to get out if it roughens up." The Richard swung wide and came abreast the Fuor d'Italia. Then it came to Mascola that the strange craft on his left had some speed.
A snarl, which changed quickly to a cry of rage as he noted that the two hulls were drifting sullenly toward each other. Robbed of his way, he could not escape. The Richard was already brushing the Fuor d'Italia's rail.
Gregory saw the Fuor d'Italia leap forward in the moonlight, noted that the craft had already changed direction and was heading off at a tangent, a course which would bring Mascola under cover of the fog bank. Veering as sharply as her speed would permit, the Richard dipped like a gull and sped on to intercept the Fuor d'Italia.
Now would be his chance to crowd through to the fishing fleet. With the wind and sea at his back he would pile them up on the rocks. Jumping to the Fuor d'Italia he sped away to direct the attack upon the heavily laden fishing-boats. Clear the fishing fleet and shunt the Florence to the rocks with the wind and current. For the space of a few seconds it was Gregory's only thought.
In all probability it was his boat. And if so, where was he going to get the money to pay for it? He walked to the wharf and with narrowing eyes watched the stranger's approach. Something wrong somewhere, he reasoned. He had ordered a speed-boat. One that would beat Mascola's. A craft with real lines and bird-like grace like the Fuor d'Italia.
Bartolomeo. A beautiful Diana too, with her trussed-up robes, the crescent alone wanting, stands on the high altar to receive homage in the character of St. Agnes, in a pretty church dedicated to her fuor delle Porte, where it is supposed she suffered martyrdom; and why?
We are interfering with no one's rights. We're here. The fish are here. And here we're going to stay." "I'll show you, you " Bandrist checked the Italian's angry outburst by placing a hand firmly upon his arm. "I'm sorry," he began. But Mascola's open muffler drowned his words and the Fuor d'Italia leaped away into the darkness. "Mascola's drunk," commented Dickie, looking after them.
"Let me take her until we clear the coast," she said. "You gave me the shivers the way you grazed that reef off China Point." As they inclined their ears into the gray mist which enveloped them, they caught the murmur of the Fuor d'Italia's exhaust. Gregory surrendered the wheel. The girl listened to the rapid-fire pulsations of the boat ahead. "He's headed out to sea," she said.
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