United States or Niue ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"And do you think, for once in a way, though not versatile, he could be prevailed upon to divert his faculties from the work of a gardener to that of a messenger?" "A messenger, Signorino?" Marietta wrinkled up her brow. "Ang an unofficial postman. Do you think he could be induced to carry a letter for me to the castle?" "But certainly, Signorino. He is here to obey the Signorino's orders."
"The Signorino's landlady is the Duchessa di Santangiolo," she answered, in accents of resignation. But then the name seemed to stimulate her; and she went on "She lives there at Castel Ventirose." Marietta pointed towards the castle. "She owns all, all this country, all these houses all, all."
She received the signorino's gay effusions in ominous silence, and would frown darkly while Madame Petrucci petted her "little bird," as she called Goneril. Once indeed Miss Prunty was heard to remark it was tempting Providence to have dealings with a creature whose very name was a synonym for ingratitude.
The signorino's thin white hands made a delicate, fluent melody, reminding her of running water under the rippled shade of trees, and, like a high, sweet bird, the thin, penetrating notes of the singer rose, swelled, and died away, admirably true and just even in this latter weakness. At the end Signor Graziano stopped his playing to give time for an elaborate cadenza.
As for Goneril, she considered him the most charming old man she had ever known, and liked nothing so much as to go out a walk with him. That, indeed, was one of the signorino's pleasures; he loved to take the young girl all over his gardens and vineyards, talking to her in the amiable, half-petting, half-mocking manner that he had adopted from the first.
"Now be a succouring angel, and make a clean breast of it. Who is my landlady?" Marietta drew back a little. Her brown old visage wrinkled up, perplexed. "Who is the Signorino's landlady?" she repeated. "Ang," said he, imitating the characteristic nasalised eh of Italian affirmation, and accompanying it by the characteristic Italian jerk of the head.
She received the signorino's gay effusions in ominous silence, and would frown darkly while Madame Petrucci petted her "little bird," as she called Goneril. Once, indeed, Miss Prunty was heard to remark that it was tempting Providence to have dealings with a creature whose very name was a synonym for ingratitude.
Peter could hardly keep from laughing. He could only utter a kind of half-choked "Oh?" "Yes," whispered Marietta. "He was bought with the Signorino's money. I did not like to see the Signorino's money wasted. So I deceived the Signorino. You ate him as a chicken-pasty." This time Peter did laugh, I am afraid. Even the Cardinal well, his smile was perilously near a titter.
"Well, you never can tell whether you can do a thing or not, until you try," said he. "Try to go to bed; and if at first you don't succeed, try, try again." "I cannot go to bed. Who would do the Signorino's work?" was her whispered objection. "Hang the Signorino's work. The Signorino's work will do itself.
The signorino's thin white hands made a delicate fluent melody, reminding her of running water under the rippled shade of trees, and, like a high, sweet bird, the thin, penetrating notes of the singer rose, swelled, and died away, admirably true and just, even in this latter weakness. At the end, Signor Graziano stopped his playing to give time for an elaborate cadenza.
Word Of The Day