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Updated: May 19, 2025
Raphael Ristofalo halted in front of the same place, which appeared small and slovenly among its more pretentious neighbors, and stepped just inside the door to where stood a single barrel of apples, a fruit only the earliest varieties of which were beginning to appear in market.
He bowed blandly to the officer, stepped backward, touching his hat, and walked away, the policeman imitating each movement with the promptness and faithfulness of a mirror. "Aren't ye goin' to get in, Mr. Richlin'?" asked Mrs. Ristofalo. She smiled first and then looked alarmed. "I I can't very well if you'll excuse me, ma'am." "Ah, Mr. Richlin'!" she pouted girlishly. "Gettin' proud!"
But I want" she pressed her hand hard upon her bosom, and raised her eyes aloft "I want to be h h h-adaured above all the e'rth!" "Aw righ'," said Ristofalo; "das aw righ'; yes door above all you worth." "Raphael Ristofalo," she said, "ye're a-deceivin' me! "Don't cry, Kate Kate Ristofalo," quietly observed the Italian, getting an arm around her waist, and laying a hand on the farther cheek.
Pennons, cock-feathers, clattering steeds, pealing salvos, banners, columns, ladies' favors, balls, concerts, toasts, the Free Gift Lottery don't you recollect? and this uniform and that uniform, brother a captain, father a colonel, uncle a major, the little rector a chaplain, Captain Ristofalo of the Tiger Rifles; the levee covered with munitions of war, steam-boats unloading troops, troops, troops, from Opelousas, Attakapas, Texas; and a supper to this company, a flag to that battalion, farewell sermon to the Washington Artillery, tears and a kiss to a spurred and sashed lover, hurried weddings, no end of them, a sword to such a one, addresses by such and such, serenades to Miss and to Mademoiselle.
About dusk of the third, as Richling was hurrying across the yard of the bakery on some errand connected with the establishment, a light touch was laid upon his shoulder; a peculiar touch, which he recognized in an instant. He turned in the gloom and exclaimed, in a whisper: "Why, Ristofalo!" "Howdy?" said Raphael, in his usual voice. "Why, how did you get out?" asked Richling. "Have you escaped?"
Mary tried playfully to retort, but John restrained her, and when she contrived to utter something absurdly complimentary of her husband he was her only hearer. They went back into the house, talking of other matters. Something turned the conversation upon Mrs. Riley, and from that subject it seemed to pass naturally to Ristofalo.
"It was bravely done, at any rate, Richling," said the Doctor. "That it was!" said Kate Ristofalo, who had happened to call to see the sick man at the same hour. "Doctor, ye'r mighty right! Ha!" Mrs. Reisen expressed a like opinion, and the two kind women met the two men's obvious wish by leaving the room.
"May I write to Mary?" Then the Doctor had a hard task. "I wrote for her yesterday," he said. "But, Richling, I don't think she'll get the letter." "Do you think she has already started?" asked the sick man, with glad eagerness. "Richling, I did the best I knew how" "Whatever you did was all right, Doctor." "I wrote to her months ago, by the hand of Ristofalo. He knows she got the letter.
Riley would laugh until in pure self-oblivion she smote her thigh with her palm, or laid her hand so smartly against his shoulder as to tip him half off his seat. "Ye didn't!" "Yes." "Ah! Get out wid ye, Raphael Ristofalo, to be telling me that for the trooth!" At one such time she was about to give him a second push, but he took the hand in his, and quietly kept it to the end of his story.
"We goin' to have war," said Raphael Ristofalo. "Ho! ho! ho! Why, Ristofalo, you were never more mistaken in your life!" "I dunno," replied the Italian, sticking in his tracks, "think it pretty certain. I read all the papers every day; nothin' else to do in parish prison. Think we see war nex' winter."
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