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Updated: June 17, 2025
The faded roses shook above his ears. Hermione smiled at him. "He knows all about it," she said. "Well, if we are ever to go to bed " Gaspare looked from her to his padrone. "Buona notte, signora," he said, gravely. "Buona notte, signorino. Buon riposo!" "Buon riposo!" echoed Hermione. "It is blessed to hear that again. I do love the clock, Gaspare."
The other piece of evidence not mentioned by Mr. Cook was written only a few years after Titian's death. Borghini says in his Riposo, 1584: "Mori ultimamente di vecchiezza (!not, then, of the plague?), essendo d'et
We must bear in mind that the Riposo, properly so called, is not merely the Holy Family seated in a landscape; it is an episode of the Flight into Egypt, and is either the rest on the journey, or at the close of the journey; quite different scenes, though all go by the same name.
When she has quite finished, at the time of day when others are drowsy or go to bed, she still likes to have just a little more conversation, and she knows that when I see she has put the last thing into its place, her task for the day is ended, and I shall dismiss her with a gracious Buona sera, bon riposo!
Con queste genti, e con altre con esse, Vid' io Fiorenza in si fatto riposo, Che non avea cagione onde piangesse. Con queste genti vid' io glorioso E giusto il popol suo tanto, che 'l giglio Non era ad asta mai posto a ritroso, Ne per division fatto vermiglio. Paradiso, XVI. 140-154.
Gaspare scooped out a hollow for Delarey, rolled up his jacket as a pillow for his padrone's head, murmured a "Buon riposo!" lay down near him, buried his face in his arms, and almost directly began to breathe with a regularity that told its tale of youthful, happy slumber. It was dark in the cave and quite warm.
Isn't it strange? I feel out here in Africa as if you were Sicily. But you are, indeed, for me. You are Sicily, you are the sun, you are everything that means joy to me, that means music, that means hope and peace. Buon riposo, my dearest one. Can you feel can you how happy I am to-night?" The second week in June! Maurice stood holding the letter in his hand.
He could see her sitting at evening upon the terrace with a book in her lap, gazing out across the ravine and the olive-covered mountain slopes to the waters that kissed the shore of the Sirens' Isle. He could see her, when night fell, going slowly up the steps into the lighted cottage, and turning on its threshold to wish him "Buon riposo." Then there was an interval and she came again.
"Good-night, Signora. Buon riposo." He moved towards the door. When he reached it he stopped and added: "I am going to bed, Signora." "Go. Sleep well." "Grazie, Signora. The Signorina is still outside, I am sure." "She goes out for a minute nearly every evening, Gaspare. She likes the air and to look at the sea." "Si, Signora; in a minute I shall go to bed. Buon riposo." And he went out.
"Buon riposo!" she murmured the words to herself as she looked at the quiet of the hills, at the quiet of the sea. The glory of the world was inspiring, but the peace of the world was almost more uplifting, she thought. Far off, in the plain, she discerned tiny trails of smoke from Sicilian houses among the orange-trees beside the sea. The gold was fading.
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