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Updated: June 17, 2025
Take notice that my poor grand-aunt had never condescended to such a revelation. "The Procuratore was enchanted at this happy solution; and his lordship the Patriarch went to seek Zaffirino in person, and carried him in his own coach to the Villa of Mistra, where the Procuratessa was residing.
"You really don't seem well," young Count Alvise had said the previous evening, as he welcomed me, in the light of a lantern held up by a peasant, in the weedy back-garden of the Villa of Mistra.
They were never conquered by the Turks, and it required considerable management to bring them under the rule of Otho.... Starting at noon, we passed through the modern Sparta, which is well laid out with broad streets. The site is superb, and in the course of time the new town will take the place of Mistra. We rode southward, down the valley of the Eurotas, through orchards of olive and mulberry.
Zaffirino did not wait to see her die. Having finished his song, he withdrew instantly, took post-horses, and traveled day and night as far as Munich. People remarked that he had presented himself at Mistra dressed in mourning, although he had mentioned no death among his relatives; also that he had prepared everything for his departure, as if fearing the wrath of so powerful a family.
I said, "but I suppose there is nothing to prevent it." "Nothing at all. In my family I have had many ambassadors, but that was a little formerly. Once a Filgiatti married with a Medici but these things are better for Mistra and Madame Wick to inquire." "Poppa is very much interested in antiquities, but I'm afraid there will hardly be time, Count Filgiatti." "Listen, I will say all!
And now, in the afternoon, I felt as if I had been in this long, rambling, tumble-down Villa of Mistra a villa three-quarters of which was given up to the storage of grain and garden tools, or to the exercise of rats, mice, scorpions, and centipedes all my life; as if I had always sat there, in Count Alvise's study, among the pile of undusted books on agriculture, the sheaves of accounts, the samples of grain and silkworm seed, the ink-stains and the cigar-ends; as if I had never heard of anything save the cereal basis of Italian agriculture, the diseases of maize, the peronospora of the vine, the breeds of bullocks, and the iniquities of farm laborers; with the blue cones of the Euganean hills closing in the green shimmer of plain outside the window.
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