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There were two Masses, one at eight o'clock, one at ten and the church was quite a mile from Villa Floriano, and up a hill; and the Italian sun was hot but the devoted young man went to both. The Duchessa was at neither. "What does she think will become of her immortal soul?" he asked Marietta. On Monday he went to the pink-stuccoed village post-office.
Then there were later portions, rectangular, pink-stuccoed, with rusticated work at the corners, and, on the blank spaces between the windows, quaint allegorical frescoes, faded, half washed-out. "It's a perfect house for her," he said. "It suits her like an appropriate garment; it almost seems to express her."
And then, at a half-hour's walk, there was the pretty pink-stuccoed village, with its hill-top church, its odd little shrines, its grim-grotesque ossuary, its faded frescoed house-fronts, its busy, vociferous, out-of-door Italian life: the cobbler tapping in his stall; women gossiping at their toilets; children sprawling in the dirt, chasing each other, shouting; men drinking, playing mora, quarrelling, laughing, singing, twanging mandolines, at the tables under the withered bush of the wine-shop; and two or three more pensive citizens swinging their legs from the parapet of the bridge, and angling for fish that never bit, in the impetuous stream below.
"Through the pink-stuccoed streets of Jaipur we threaded our way slowly, on account of the holy pigeons breakfasting in thousands on the road, and the sacred bulls, who barely deigned to move aside to let us pass." "It appears to be the custom, when a man dies, for his relatives to let loose a bull in memoriam, and the happy beast forthwith sets out to live a life of sloth and luxury.
Beatrice and Emilia, strolling together in one of the flowery lanes up the hillside, between ranks of the omnipresent poplar, and rose-bush hedges, or crumbling pink-stuccoed walls that dripped with cyclamen and snapdragon, met old Marietta descending, with a basket on her arm. Marietta courtesied to the ground. "How do you do, Marietta?" Beatrice asked. "I can't complain, thank your Grandeur.
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