United States or Netherlands ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"And very well sung, my Gonerilla!" cried the old lady. But the signorino went up to the piano and shook hands with her. "Little Mees Goneril," he said, "you have the makings of an artist." The two old ladies stared, for, after all, Goneril's performance had been very simple. You see, they were better versed in music than in human nature.
"You must excuse me for shouting in your presence, but we have only one little servant, and during this suffocating weather I find that any movement reminds me of approaching age." The old lady smiled as if that time were still far ahead. "I am sure you ought to take care of yourself," said Miss Hamelyn. "I hope you will not allow Goneril to fatigue you." "Gonerilla! What a pretty name! Charming!
"Of whom?" said Miss Hamelyn, rather anxiously. "Of him!" cried Madame Petrucci, pointing to the engraving opposite. "He lives, of course, in the capital; but he rents the villa behind our house, the Medici Villa, and when he is tired of Rome he runs down here for a week or so; and so your Gonerilla may have the benefit of his society!"
"Come in, little bird." The old lady, in pink merino and curl-papers, opened the door. Goneril held up her letter. "My cousin Jack is coming to Florence, and he is going to walk over to see me this afternoon. And may he stay to dinner, cara signora?" "Why, of course, Gonerilla. I am charmed!" Goneril kissed the old lady, and danced downstairs brimming over with delight.
"And now, since Gonerilla is no longer a stranger," added Madame Petrucci, "we will leave her to the rustic society of Angiolino while we show Miss Hamelyn our orangery." "And conclude our business!" said Bridget Prunty. One day, when Goneril, much browner and rosier for a week among the mountains, came in to lunch at noon, she found no signs of that usually regular repast.
"Come here my Gonerilla, and hold my skein for me. Signor Graziano is going to charm us with one of his delightful airs." "I hoped she would sing," faltered the signorino. "Who? Gonerilla? Nonsense, my friend. She winds silk much better than she sings." Goneril laughed. She was not at all offended. But Signor Graziano made several mistakes in his playing. At last he left the piano.
"He did, in fact, refuse; but my brother would have no baptism saving with that name, which, unfortunately, it is impossible to shorten." "I think it is a charming name!" said Madame Petrucci, coming to the rescue. "Gonerilla it dies on one's lips like music! And if you do not like it, Brigida, what's in a name? as your charming Byron said." "I hope we shall make her happy," said Miss Prunty.
"Come in, little bird." The old lady, in pink merino and curl-papers, opened the door. Goneril held up her letter. "My cousin Jack is coming to Florence, and he is going to walk over to see me this afternoon. And may he stay to dinner, cara signora?" "Why, of course, Gonerilla. I am charmed!" Goneril kissed the old lady, and danced downstairs brimming over with delight.
She had sweet dark eyes, a little too small and narrow. "I mean to be very happy," she exclaimed. "Always mean that, my dear," said Miss Prunty. "And now, since Gonerilla is no longer a stranger," added Madame Petrucci, "we will leave her to the rustic society of Angiolino, while we show Miss Hamelyn our orangery." "And conclude our business!" said Bridget Prunty.
"You must excuse me for shouting in your presence, but we have only one little servant, and during this suffocating weather I find that any movement reminds me of approaching age." The old lady smiled, as if that time were still far ahead. "I am sure you ought to take care of yourself," said Miss Hamelyn. "I hope you will not allow Goneril to fatigue you." "Gonerilla! What a pretty name! Charming!
Word Of The Day