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Updated: May 5, 2025
"I love it, too." "The Signorina loves the sea." He had ignored her love for it and seized on Vere's. She thought that this was very characteristic of his youth. "Yes. She loves being here. You talked to her to-night, didn't you?" "Si, Signora." "And to Gaspare?" "Si, Signora. And this afternoon, too. Gaspare was at Mergellina this afternoon." "And you met there, did you?" "Si, Signora.
Do you know anything anything dreadful about Madre that you have never told me?" "Vere, don't be frightened." "Ah, but you haven't been here! You weren't here when " "What is it?" Her terror infected him. "Madre came back. She had been to Mergellina all alone. She was away such a long time. When she came back I was in my room. I didn't know. I didn't hear the boat.
And to Artois, sedentary for so long, the sight of them brought a feeling almost of triumph, but also a sensation of envy. Their vigor made him pine for movement. "Drive on slowly, Pasqualino," he said. "I will follow you on foot, and join you at the hill." "Si Signore." He got out, stood for a moment, then strolled on towards the Mergellina.
It was leaving the fishing-ground. It was going towards Mergellina. "To-day I am going to Mergellina." Hermione said that to herself as she watched the boat till it disappeared in the shining gold that was making a rapture of the sea. She said it, but the words seemed to have little meaning, the fact which they conveyed to be unimportant to her.
As Artois listened he felt as if he learned what he had not been able to learn that day at Mergellina. Strange as this thing was if indeed it was he felt that it must be, that it was ordained to be, it and all that might follow from it.
At this moment the guitars struck up that most Neapolitan of songs, the "Canzona di Mergellina," the smiling Italian girl popped a heaped-up plate of macaroni blushing gently with tomato sauce before Craven, and placed a straw bottle of ruby hued Chianti by the bit of bread at his left hand, and Miss Van Tuyn turned her corn-coloured head to have a good look at the room and, incidentally, to allow the room to have a good look at her.
"Don't you think," he said, "that perhaps it is a little dangerous to allow Vere to be so much with a boy from Mergellina?" "Oh no." In her tone there was the calm of absolute certainty. "Well, but we don't know so very much about him." "Do you think two instincts could be at fault?" "Two instincts?" "Vere's and mine?" "Perhaps not. Then your instinct " He waited. He was passionately interested.
She told herself that her body was perfectly well. But she was afraid. That was the truth. And to feel fear was specially hateful to her, because she abhorred cowardice, and was inclined to despise all timidity as springing from weakness of character. She dreaded reaching Mergellina. She dreaded seeing this woman, Ruffo's mother. And Ruffo? Did she dread seeing him? She fought against her fear.
But the song once it had appealed to her. Once she had leaned down to hear it, she had leaned down over the misty sea, her soul had followed it out over the sea. "Oh, dolce luna bianca de l' estate Mi fugge il sonno accanto a la Marina: Mi destan le dolcissime serate Gli occhi di Rosa e il mar di Mergellina." Those were the real words. And what voice had sung them?
The Signora she has been good to me and my mamma. It is she who sent my mamma money twenty lire! I respect the Signora as I respect my mamma. Only to-day, only this very day she came to Mergellina, she came to see my mama.
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