Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 25, 2025
To him Garibaldi was superhuman, fabulous, far away in the mists of an heroic past, as Ulysses to Greek youths. "You, sir, may preach patience," he said sullenly. "It is no doubt your duty to preach it. But I cannot be patient. My heart would choke in my throat." Don Silverio looked him straight in the face. "What is it you intend to do?" "I tell you that you can do nothing, my son."
"I venture, sir," replied Don Silverio respectfully, "to remind you again that it is impossible I should be so empowered, since Adone Alba was ignorant of the reason for which he was summoned here." Corradini shuffled his documents nervously with some irritation. "This conference, then, is a mere waste of time? I hold council to-day " "Pardon me, your Excellency," said Don Silverio blandly.
At the young man's first contrite words Don Silverio stopped him with a kind smile. "I was impatient and to blame," he said as he took the roses. "You heap coals of fire on my head, my son, with your welcome gifts." Then together they had gone to the quaint old church of which the one great bell was tolling.
With your superiority to them you must easily rule the embryo rioters of the Valdedera. If, to your efforts it should be owing that the population remain quiet, and that this Adone Alba and others in a similar position come to me in an orderly manner and a pliant spirit, I will engage that this service to us on your part shall not be forgotten." He paused; but Don Silverio did not reply.
"Don Silverio is absent," Adone called back to her; and he passed on under the olive-trees towards his home. Gianna paused on the bridge and watched him till he was out of sight; then she went back herself by another path which led to the stables. A thought had struck her: Nerina was too devoted to the cattle to have let them suffer; possible she was even now attending to them in their stalls.
Don Silverio rose in haste, put the little dog on his armchair, closed the door of his study, and went down the narrow stone passage which parted his bookroom from the entrance. The lofty doorway showed him the stones of the familiar street, a buttress of his church, a great branch of one of the self-sown ilex-trees, the glitter of the arms and the white leather of the cross belts of a sentinel.
"What are they coming for, sir, to the river?" said the young man as he uncovered his head on the threshold of the chamber. Don Silverio hesitated to reply; in the moonlight his features looked like a mask of a dead man, it was so white and its lines so deep. "Why do they come to the river, these strangers?" repeated Adone. "They would not say. They were on my land.
Francis of Assissi, both he and Don Silverio took more pleasure in the life than in the death of fair winged things.
It was at dawn that same day that Don Silverio returned from his interviews with Count Corradini and Senatore Gallo. When he reached Ruscino the little rector of the village in the woods had already celebrated mass.
"It should serve some great end," said Don Silverio, not knowing very well what he meant or to what he desired to move the young man's mind. "Nobility of blood should make the hands cleaner, the heart higher, the aims finer." Adone had shrugged his shoulders. "We are all equal!" he answered. "We are not all equal," the priest said curtly. "There is not equality in nature.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking