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Updated: May 23, 2025
But in the morning we had to put on the stockings and the talare and the nicchio again." Don Ippolito gave a melancholy laugh. He had thrust the corner of his napkin into his collar; seeing that Ferris had not his so, he twitched it out, and made a feint of its having been all the time in his lap.
"I can remember that papa used to be glad to get out of his." "Perfectly wild," assented Mrs. Vervain. "But he never seemed the same person. Soldiers and clergymen are so much more stylish in their own dress not stylish, exactly, but taking; don't you know?" "There, Don Ippolito," interposed Ferris, "you had better put on your talare and your nicchio again.
Don Ippolito's coat, also, was of a more mundane cut than the talare; he wore a waistcoat and small-clothes, meeting the stockings at the knee with a sprightly buckle. His person showed no traces of the snuff with which it used to be so plentifully dusted; in fact, he no longer took snuff in the presence of the ladies.
He restored each to a different pocket in the sides of the ecclesiastical talare, or gown, reaching almost to his ankles, and then clutched the pocket in which he had replaced the linen handkerchief, as if to make sure that something he prized was safe within.
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