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Updated: June 5, 2025
She gave me no cause to regret her sister. She cried when I left her, and the morning of my departure I gave her four bracelets for her mother, besides a substantial token of my affection for herself. 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 Madame Rondoli has two more daughters.
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?"
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?"
He fell in love with her at first sight. But you will take a glass of sirup?-it is very good. Are you quite alone, this year?" "Yes," I said, "quite alone." I felt an increasing inclination to laugh, as my first disappointment was dispelled by what Mother Rondoli said. I was obliged; however, to drink a glass of her sirup. "So you are quite alone?" she continued.
He met her in the street here, and fell in love with her out of hand. But you will take a glass of syrup? it is very good. Are you quite alone, this year?" "Yes," I said, "quite alone." I felt an increasing inclination to laugh, as my first disappointment was dispelled by what Mother Rondoli said. I was obliged, however, to drink a glass of her syrup. "So you are quite alone?" she continued.
'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.
He fell in love with her at first sight. But you will take a glass of sirup?-it is very good. Are you quite alone, this year?" "Yes," I said, "quite alone." I felt an increasing inclination to laugh, as my first disappointment was dispelled by what Mother Rondoli said. I was obliged; however, to drink a glass of her sirup. "So you are quite alone?" she continued.
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