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Updated: September 27, 2025
Then Count Nobili rose, and, in that sweet-toned voice which had fallen like a charm on many a woman's ear, addressed the marchesa. "Marchesa Guinigi, hereditary Governess of Lucca, and Countess of the Garfagnana, I am come to ask in marriage the hand of your niece, Enrica Guinigi. I desire no portion with her. The lady herself is a portion more than enough for me."
Moreña had a guitar to the accompaniment of which he sang a number of plaintive and sweet-toned songs. Three or four of his countrymen occasionally came up from below. Then they, too, sang more plaintive songs; or played a strange game with especial cards which none of us "gringos" could ever fathom; or perhaps stepped a grave, formal sort of dance.
The respite from hostilities which followed was called the "Truce of God." It was not the musical voice of the bell that made Gilbert de Hers pause on the very threshold of the struggle, and bite his lip until it grew white; but the sweet-toned bell announced the sunset of Wednesday. The young men stood gazing at each other, as though some spell had transformed them into stone.
"I thank you, Count Nobili," she said, in a strange, cold voice. Even at that moment she could not bring herself to look him in the face. "You have saved my niece's life." "Madame," replied Nobili, his sweet-toned voice trembling, "I have saved my own. Had Enrica perished, I should not have lived." In these few words the chivalric nature of the man spoke out. The marchesa waved her hand.
Through the roar of the maddened city the bell of the Metropolitan tower was beginning its chimes. By the third stroke the uproar had died almost away. The people were standing still, awaiting what might come. The sweet-toned chimes ceased. There succeeded the pause. Then the great bell began to boom. One two three four five six came its spaced and measured strokes.
Nevertheless, under the eyes of Starling, at twenty minutes to eleven she stepped into the victoria with an outward courage, and drove down the shady avenue towards the gates. Sweet-toned bells were ringing as she reached the residence portion of the town, and subdued pedestrians in groups and couples made their way along the sidewalks.
And the sweet-toned old Providence Meeting-house bell was tolling its notes for the passing of the soul of the gentle little Harpeth woman of many sorrows as her friends and neighbors walked quietly down the Road, along the dim aisle and took their places in the old pews with a fitting solemnity on their serious faces.
Joyously as she would spring forward to meet him, there was no tell-tale blush on her cheek, no self-betraying tremor in her clear, sweet-toned voice. No; there had not yet been a moment when he could say to himself, "She loves me." Often he said to himself, "She knows not yet what love is." In the intervals of time not passed in Lily's society, Kenelm would take long rambles with Mr.
And besides being a master of his own instrument he plays the viola d'amore, that sweet-toned survival, with sympathetic strings, of the 17th century viol family, and the Hungarian czimbalom. Nor is his mastery of the last-named instrument "out of drawing," for we must remember that Mr. Hartmann was born in Maté Szalka, in Southern Hungary. Then, too, Mr.
Two by two they came, bringing with them, for the starting of each mission, a few soldiers, seven to ten, a few converted Indians from the missions of Lower California, a little live stock, some church furniture, and always the bells; yet in a little over forty years they had succeeded in founding a chain of missions whose sweet-toned bells chimed the hours and called to prayer from San Diego to the Bay of San Francisco.
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