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Updated: May 21, 2025


Dave's mind dropped the other thoughts as he tried to cope with the realization that this was another corridor. It was brightly lit, and there was a scarlet carpet on the floor. Also, it was a short hall, requiring only a few steps before they came to a bigger door, elaborately enscrolled. Ser Perth bent before it, and the door opened silently while he and Dave entered.

This thing appeared to Ser Piero nothing short of a miracle, and he praised very greatly the ingenious idea of Leonardo; and then, having privately bought from a pedlar another buckler, painted with a heart transfixed by an arrow, he presented it to the countryman, who remained obliged to him for it as long as he lived.

Gianni,” Giovanni Caracciolo, head of an eminent family that has figured prominently in Neapolitan history from the days of Angevin monarchs to those of King Ferdinand. Little good did the fickle Queen’s favour do Ser. Gianni, who suffered an ignominious fate for having one day boxed Joanna’s ears during a lovers’ tiff.

"Shall I tell you what it would be like for your soul to live in the muck of a swamp in a mandrake root?" Dave shook his head. "I guess not. I look, Ser Perth. I don't know what you're talking about. How can I go along with you when I'm in the dark? Start at the beginning, will you? I was killed; all right, if you say I was, I was.

A young woman of her sort carried her dowry on her back, in her two hands, in her mouth ah! and in what she could put into yours, by our Lord. Rather, it should be the other way. What, now, was Ser Baldassare prepared to lay out upon such a piece of goods? Baldassare shivered, grinned fearfully, and shook his head many times.

La Cronique des Veneciens de Maistre Martin da Canal. In Archivo Storico Italiano, 1st ser., vol. Written in French and accompanied by a translation into modern Italian. One of the most charming of medieval chronicles. B. Modern Works

Ser Giovanni took up a glass and polished it vigorously with the napkin he carried always over his arm before he filled it with red Chianti. He had never had a foreigner in his house before, but he had heard many tales about them from the waiters in the great Anglo-American hotels on the Lung'Arno, and he knew that they craved for warmth and an unlimited supply of hot water and tea.

She has privily sung to her Pericles, and ser, and if I wake not very late on Judgement. Day, I shall zen hear but why should I talk poetry to you, to make you laugh? I have a divin' passion for zat woman. Do I not give her to a husband, and say, Be happy! onnly sing! Be kissed! be hugged! only give Pericles your voice.

I heard the street door open and shut. She was in the Piazza. My landlord he was a notary by trade, and by name Ser Torpe was dismayed to see me in bedgown and slippers. "Never go as you are, sir!" he cried. "Go like an eccellenza, bid them fetch a chair. Light of Light, what a costume for Volterra!" I ran upstairs past him, took down my birding-piece, primed it and went to the window.

We then turned back and followed our kafila to Alagoum, at the junction of Wadi Ser and the Wadi Latat, about two hours' journey. Alagoum is a large cluster of high houses, surrounded by stables and houses excavated in the sandhills, where the inhabitants and their cattle live in hot weather. This is quite an idea suited to the Bedouin, who live in caves, when they can find them.

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