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Updated: June 22, 2025
It was now three years since Rico made his first entry into Peschiera. He was now a tall, fourteen-year old stripling, and whoever laid eyes upon him found him pleasing to look upon. Once again the golden sun of autumn burnished the surface of the Lake of Garda, and the heavens lay blue above the tranquil waves.
The clothing for which Rodriguez searched the plain vainly was ready to hand. No disguise was effective against la Garda, they had too many suspicions, their skill was to discover disguises. But in the moment of la Garda's triumph, when they had found out the disguise, when success had lulled the suspicions for which they were infamous, then was the time to trick la Garda.
Their ways had parted soon after the nursery, and, though they had met frequently, they had never trodden the same path again. For Evasio Mon had been educated as a priest. "I have often wondered why I have never clashed with Evasio Mon," Sarrion once said to his son in the reflective quiet of their life at Torre Garda.
Isabella d'Este, eager to ingratiate herself with the French, invited Ligny to visit her, and sent dogs and falcons, as well as trout from Garda, to the king, who told La Trémouille that he had never tasted better fish.
At length he approached me, and, with a look of intense interest, inquired how near my father's villa was to Peschiera on the lake of Garda. "Within a league of it," I replied. Again he paced the apartment in silent abstraction, when suddenly his eagle-eye was lighted up with more than its wonted fire, and he exclaimed with animation, "Agreed!
General Kray therefore established his headquarters at Valeggio, a place situated at an equal distance between Preschiera and Mantua, and he extended from the Po to the lake of Garda, on the banks of the Mencio, thus investing the two cities at the same time.
She guessed that finding no troops where he expected to find them he had ridden ahead to discover the cause of it and had passed unheard through the Carlist ambush and back again through the zone of fire. That Juanita could accomplish the journey on foot to Torre Garda seemed doubtful. The country was unsafe; the snows had hardly melted.
The young Tuscan had never before seen nature in a garb so lovely and inviting; he wandered through the picturesque villages which margin or overhang the lake of Garda, sojourned with the peasantry, and sketched their figures and costume.
Immediately below them, at the foot of a slope, which looked quite feasible, lay huddled the body of a man. "It is a Carlist," explained Marcos. "We heard some time ago that they had been trying to find another way over to Torre Garda. That valley is a trap. That is not the way to Torre Garda at all; and that slope is solid ice. See, his knife lies beside him. He tried to cut steps before he died.
"Where is Marcos?" she asked. "He is taking a siesta," answered Sarrion. "Like a poor man." "Yes, like a poor man. He was not in bed all last night. You had a narrower escape of being made a nun than you suspect." Juanita's face fell. She went to the window and stood there looking out. "When are we going to Torre Garda?" she asked, after a long silence. "I hate towns ... and people.
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