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Updated: June 15, 2025
Within the eye-holes of their masks the eyes of the intruders glittered in the glassy, baffling way of eyes behind masks. Aurora, unused to the mode of procedure at a veglione, asked helplessly in a whisper of Landini: "What shall I say to them?" He spoke for her then, in Italian, because he thought it probable that these were Florentines who had come into a strange box for a lark.
Its stains appear to be caused by its use in a school; for it is covered with notes, in German current hand, very antiquated, and very elementary in their scholarship. It has all the poetry ascribed to Virgil, and the Commentaries of Servius and Landini, which are so voluminous that the page looks like a ha'p'orth of sack to an intolerable deal of very dry bread.
"I supposed she'd be in raptures with the place, at least, but you wouldn't know there was anything at all remarkable in Venice from anything she's said. We have met ever so many interesting people to-day, the Countess Tatocka, and Lady Fenleigh, and Miss Landini, and everybody, but I don't really think she's said a word about a soul. She's too queer for anything."
In the left corner you may see Marsilio Ficino dressed as a priest; Gentile de' Becchi turns to him, while Cristoforo Landini in a red cloak stands by, and Angelo Poliziano lifts up his hands. Does one ever regret, I wonder, after looking at these realistic fifteenth-century works, that the frescoes of Orcagna for he painted the whole choir were destroyed in a storm, it is said, in 1358.
I don't keep step very well; I walk all over my partner's feet. Besides, it wouldn't do, because I've already refused to dance with Mr. Landini." "Sit it out with me, then, I implore you, if you positively do not wish to dance." "Oh, but you must dance! I want you to. I want to behold you all stuck over with favors."
"Italo says," she began, after a silence such as often fell while she posed and he painted, "that Mr. Landini has the evil eye." "What rubbish!" "Glad to hear you say so. I don't believe there's any such thing, myself. But Italo swears there is, and has told me story upon story to prove it. He wants me to wear a coral horn and poke it at Mr. Landini whenever he comes near me."
Landini was on one side of me, and he was making himself terribly agreeable. He means all right, but his talk, as I guess you know, isn't a bit my kind. And last night, I don't mind telling you " her voice dropped to a note confidentially low, "with his compliments and incinerations, you'd almost have thought he was sweet on me. Only I know better. And so, as I say, I wasn't having much fun.
Erwin!" called a lady's voice from a gondola behind them. The accent was perfectly English, but the voice entirely Italian. "Where are you running to?" "Why, Miss Landini!" retorted Mrs. Erwin, looking back over her shoulder. "Is that you? Where in the world are you going?" "Oh, I've been to pay a visit to my old English teacher. He's awfully ill with rheumatism; but awfully!
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