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But now, as the men passed singing, Adrian was moved to utterance. "Italia, oh, Italia!" he exclaimed. "I thought I knew my Italy. I thought I had visited my Italy every year or two, for more years than you could shake a stick at. But this is too Italian to be true. This is not Italy this is Italian opera." Anthony gloomed. "It's an infernal bore, whatever it is," he declared.
When Paolo arrived upon the scene, puffing from his unaccustomed exertion, he found Chico greedily eating while Maria was still repeating, "Viva Italia!" Upon comparing his watch with the clock Paolo's delight knew no bounds at finding that Chico had made the flight in one minute and a half, fully one half a minute shorter time than Paolo had allowed.
"Intensely! dear sun-warm, love-warm Italia." "Yes, one loves to live and lives to love while there. I hope you did not leave your heart behind you, Miss Vernon." "Nay, you should congratulate me had I done so, and by your own words of 'one lives to love while there." "Yes, and on my warm heart; for, though old Sol laughs in gay Paris, his temple is in warm Italia," she said, gaily.
It was an animated picture of ideal Italia. The sea of heads right up to the highest walls fronted her glistening, and she was mute as moonrise. A virgin who loosens a dove from her bosom does it with no greater effort than Vittoria gave out her voice. The white bird flutters rapidly; it circles and takes its flight. The voice seemed to be as little the singer's own.
On his way thither he observed Grammont and myself, and suspected me of evil designs and watched me. He told how I tried to get rid of him by sending him upon a message to the Caffe d' Italia, and how he declined to leave the place.
Gabriele d'Annunzio's flaming "Ode for the Latin Resurrection," published to-day in the Figaro, is evidently intended to excite Italians to seize an opportunity to abandon neutrality and join France and the Allied Powers against Austria, and thereby win back the "Italia Irredenta."
I was touched by his words and consented. He sat down on the table in the dining-room, and held up the glass of sherry to his eye. "If you beat me, Frank," he said, "I shall take to drink. What will you do, if it goes the other way?" "God knows," I returned. "Well," said he, "here is a toast in the meantime: 'Italia irredenta!"
I tore a leaf from my pocket-book, scrawled a line to Clyde asking him to wait for me, took a franc from my purse, and asked the man to take a 'message to the Caffè d' Italia, and there give it to the person to whom it was addressed. Regarding the man's dress and the foreign accent with which he had spoken just now, I addressed him in French. 'Pas du tout! he responded.
Nothing could be more natural, after seeing the house of the Capulets, than a wish to see Juliet's Tomb, which is visited by all strangers, and is the common property of the hand-books. It formerly stood in a garden, where, up to the beginning of this century, it served, says my "Viaggio in Italia," "for the basest uses," just as the sacred prison of Tasso was used for a charcoal bin.
"About eight months ago at last Easter-tide, and while the ladies of Sainte Marie were attending mass in their little chapel, situated about a quarter of a mile east from the road by which you descend to Italia, a traveller was carried into their midst more dead than alive, in a faint, having been struck down by the fell hand of disease suddenly, and while making his way over the mountains; the hireling who drove the conveyance had carried him in, well knowing the convent and hospital to be a harbour of rest for the sick and weary, having deposited his living freight upon one of the rude benches of the chapel, bringing also his luggage, left him in God and our Lady's hands.
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