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Updated: May 16, 2025
A few, the boldest, entered the arbour . . . they all entered . . . they hesitated, hung back, hopped on. Now they were at her feet; now three were in her lap; others were on the table. On the table, in her lap, at her feet, she scattered seed. Then she took a second handful, and softly, softly, to a sort of lullaby tune, "Perlino, Perlino, Perlino Piumino, Where is Perlino? Come, Perlino,"
she sang, her open hand extended. A greenfinch new up to the table, flew down to her knee, flew up to her shoulder, flew down to her hand, and, perching on her thumb, began to feed. And she went on with her soft, soft intoning. "This is Perlino, So green, oh, so green, oh. He is the bravest heart, The sweetest singer, of them all.
"And Perlino," she resumed her chant "Perlino Piumino Is the bravest of them all. And now that he has made an end Of his handful of seed, I hope he will be so good As to favour us with a little music. Sometimes he will, And sometimes he just obstinately won't. Tu-ite, tu-ite, tu-ite, Andiamo, Perlino, tu-ite! Canta, di grazia, canta."
Her eyes laughed, but she was very careful not to move. Anthony, blotted against the leafy wall behind him, sat as still as a statue. Her eyes laughed. "Oh, such eyes!" thought he. Her red lips, smiling, took delicious curves. And the hand on which Perlino perched, with its slender fingers, its soft modelling, its warm whiteness, was like a thing carved of rose-marble and made alive.
And after some further persuasion, you will suspect me of romancing, but upon my word, Perlino Piumino consented. Clinging to Susanna's thumb, he threw back his head, opened his bill, and poured forth his crystal song a thin, bright, crystal rill, swift-flowing, winding in delicate volutions. And mercy, how his green little bosom throbbed. "Is n't it incredible?" Susanna whispered.
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