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Updated: June 21, 2025
"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.
"Very nice, I'm sure," said Miss Hamelyn, greatly relieved; for she knew that Signor Graziano must be fifty. "We have known him," went on the old lady, "very nearly thirty years. He used to largely frequent the salon of our dear, our cherished Madame Lilli." The tears came into the old lady's eyes. No doubt those days seemed near and dear to her; she did not see the dust on those faded triumphs.
"Signor Graziano, Miss Goneril Hamelyn," said Miss Prunty, rather severely. Goneril felt that the time had come for silence and good manners. She sat quite quiet over her embroidery, listening to the talk of Sontag, of Clementi, of musicians and singers dead and gone.
"Signorino," said Madame Petrucci, presently, "if you will accompany me we will perform one of your charming melodies." Signor Graziano rose a little stiffly and led the pretty, withered little diva to the piano. Goneril looked on, wondering, admiring.
He marries the sweet Marianna, the lucky Pasquale! He always knew the little dove loved him; it was but the devil that led her astray." In that case, Doctor Graziano said, everything was well, and there was no cause for lamentation. But Pasquarello began to sob and cry more violently than before, and at last fell down in a faint, as if overcome by his terrible sorrow.
The signorino's thin white hands made a delicate fluent melody, reminding her of running water under the rippled shade of trees, and, like a high, sweet bird, the thin, penetrating notes of the singer rose, swelled, and died away, admirably true and just, even in this latter weakness. At the end, Signor Graziano stopped his playing to give time for an elaborate cadenza.
"I cannot play tonight," he cried. "I am not in the humour. Goneril, will you come and walk with me on the terrace?" Before the girl could reply Miss Prunty had darted an angry glance at Signor Graziano. "Good Lord, what fools men are!" she ejaculated.
"I cannot play to-night," he cried. "I am not in the humour. Goneril, will you come and walk with me on the terrace?" Before the girl could reply Miss Prunty had darted an angry glance at Signor Graziano. "Good Lord, what fools men are!" she ejaculated.
The signorino's thin white hands made a delicate, fluent melody, reminding her of running water under the rippled shade of trees, and, like a high, sweet bird, the thin, penetrating notes of the singer rose, swelled, and died away, admirably true and just even in this latter weakness. At the end Signor Graziano stopped his playing to give time for an elaborate cadenza.
Alexander accordingly judged that the moment had came to abandon his ally, and sent to Charles the Bishops of Concordia and Terni, and his confessor, Mansignore Graziano.
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