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Updated: May 5, 2025
Then she explained: "You must go into the Street Victor-Emmanuel, down the Falcone road and the side street San-Rafael and into the furniture shop in the building at the right at the end of a court, and there you must ask for Madame Rondoli. That is the place." And so she went away, leaving me rather astonished. When Paul saw that I was alone, he stammered out: "Where; is Francesca?"
'Just wait for me, I shall be back in a moment, they often say. How long are you going to wait? I should not wonder if you were foolish enough to go and look for her at the address she gave you. 'Does Madame Rondoli live here, please? 'No, monsieur. I'll bet that you are longing to go there."
I thereupon took up her little black wooden trunk, such as servants use, and took it into the room on the right, which I had chosen for her. A bit of paper was fastened to the box, on which was written, Mademoiselle Francesca Rondoli, Genoa. "Your name is Francesca?" I asked, and she nodded her head, without replying. "We shall have supper directly," I continued.
In rather a hostile manner she asked me what I wanted, and I replied by requesting her to tell me whether Francesca Rondoli lived there. "What do you want with her?" she asked. "I had the pleasure of meeting her last year, and I should like to see her again." The old woman looked at me suspiciously. "Where did you meet her?" she asked. "Why here, in Genoa itself." "What is your name?"
"We have only been able to get two rooms, so you must choose which you like." She replied with her eternal Che mi fa? I thereupon took her little black wooden box, just like servants use, and took it into the room on the right, which I had chosen for her, ... for us. A bit of paper was fastened on to the box, on which was written, Mademoiselle Francesca Rondoli, Genoa. "Your name is Francesca?"
One of these days I intend to return to Italy, and I cannot help remembering, with a certain amount of uneasiness, mingled with hope, that Mme. Rondoli has two more daughters. Admiral de la Vallee, who seemed to be half asleep in his armchair, said in a voice which sounded like an old woman's: "I had a very singular little love adventure once; would you like to hear it?"
Then she explained: "You must go into the Street Victor-Emmanuel, down the Passage Falene, and go into the furniture shop at the bottom, in a court, and there you must ask for Mme. Rondoli That is where it is." And so she went away, leaving me rather astonished. When Paul saw that I was alone he stammered out: "Where is Francesca?"
'Just wait for me, I shall be back in a moment, they often say. How long are you going to wait? I should not wonder if you were foolish enough to go and look for her at the address she gave you. 'Does Mme. Rondoli live here, please? 'No, Sir. I'll bet that you are longing to go there."
Three stories in particular, however, may be mentioned, La Maison Tellier, 1881; Les Soeurs Rondoli, 1884, and Miss Harriett, 1885, because the collections which originally bore these names were pre-eminently successful in drawing the attention of the critics to the author's work.
In rather a hostile manner she asked me what I wanted, and I replied by requesting her to tell me whether Francesca Rondoli lived there. "What do you want with her?" she asked. "I had the pleasure of meeting her last year, and I should like to see her again." The old woman looked at me suspiciously. "Where did you meet her?" she asked. "Why, here in Genoa itself." "What is your name?"
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