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Updated: June 12, 2025
Henry Wimbush was forced to sell some of his Primitives a Taddeo da Poggibonsi, an Amico di Taddeo, and four or five nameless Sienese to the Americans. There was a crisis. For the first time in his life Henry asserted himself, and with good effect, it seemed. Priscilla's gay and gadding existence had come to an abrupt end.
His father wished to make it a patriarchal concern, where all the family should have their rooms and meet together for meals, and was perfectly willing to give up the new practice at Poggibonsi and preside. Gino was quite willing too, for he was an affectionate youth who liked a large home-circle, and he told it as a pleasant bit of news to Lilia, who did not attempt to conceal her horror.
But he was rather blue when his clan left Monteriano in much dignity a dignity which was not at all impaired by the acceptance of a cheque. They took the cheque not to Poggibonsi, after all, but to Empoli a lively, dusty town some twenty miles off. There they settled down in comfort, and the sisters said they had been driven to it by Gino.
She also reminded herself that he was not worthy of sympathy. "It is a large house," she repeated. "Immense; and the taxes! But it will be better when Ah! but you have never guessed why I went to Poggibonsi why it was that I was out when he called." "I cannot guess, Signor Carella. I am here on business." "But try." "I cannot; I hardly know you."
It is related that Julius, anxious to recover what had been so lightly lost, sent several couriers to bring him back. Michael Angelo announced that he intended to accept the Sultan's commission for building a bridge at Pera, and refused to be persuaded to return to Rome. This was at Poggibonsi.
"Gino's father is courtesy itself, and rising rapidly in his profession. This very month he leaves Monteriano, and sets up at Poggibonsi. And for my own poor part, I think what people are is what matters, but I don't suppose you'll agree. And I should like you to know that Gino's uncle is a priest the same as a clergyman at home."
It took longer to find than the basket, and he stood perspiring in the evening sun, trying to avoid the smell of the drains and to prevent the little girl from singing against Poggibonsi. The olive-trees beside him were draped with the weekly or more probably the monthly wash. What a frightful spotty blouse! He could not think where he had seen it. Then he remembered that it was Lilia's.
But the tunes would not go out of her head, and all night long she was troubled by torrents of music, and by applause and laughter, and angry young men who shouted the distich out of Baedeker: Poggibonizzi fatti in la, Che Monteriano si fa citta! Poggibonsi was revealed to her as they sang a joyless, straggling place, full of people who pretended.
He knew the landmarks pretty well: here was the crossroad to Poggibonsi; and the last view of Monteriano, if they had light, would be from here. Soon they ought to come to that little wood where violets were so plentiful in spring. He wished the weather had not changed; it was not cold, but the air was extraordinarily damp. It could not be good for the child.
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