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"Then you would like me to go and tell him what we propose? Just as you like. I will trot away, shall I, and see if he agrees. Don't think of stirring, dear Daisy, I know how you feel the heat. Sit quiet in the shade. As you know, I am a real salamander, the sun is never troppo caldo for me." She tripped off to where the Guru was sitting in that wonderful position.
He lighted a cigarette, and stood there till he had consumed it. "Heigh-ho!" he sighed at last, and turned back towards the villa. And "Yes," he concluded, "I must certainly keep an eye on our friend Peter Marchdale." "But I 'm doubting it's a bit too late troppo tardo," he said to Marietta, whom he found bringing hot water to his dressing-room. "It is not very late," said Marietta.
Poor soul!" said Adone, and he thought of the great markets he had seen in the north, the droves of oxen, the piles of fruits, the long lines of wine carts, the heaps of slaughtered game, the countless shops with their electric light, the trains running one after another all the nights and every night to feed the rich; and he thought, as he had thought when a boy, that the devil had troppo braccio, if any devil indeed there were beside man himself.
"Dolce, ma non troppo dolce," said the Professor to the Mistress, who was sweetening his tea. She always sweetens his and mine for us. He has been attending a series of concerts, and borrowed the form of the directions to the orchestra. "Sweet, but not too sweet," he said, translating the Italian for the benefit of any of the company who might not be linguists or musical experts.
I delivered Her Majesty's letter. Before she opened it, she exclaimed, "'O Dio! tutto e perduto e troppo tardi'! Oh, God! all is lost, it is too late!" I then gave her the cipher and the key. In a few minutes I enabled her to decipher the letter. On getting through it, she again exclaimed, "'E tutto inutile'! it is entirely useless! I am afraid they are all lost.
Then the mother cried, between her sobs, "E troppo crudele, la guerra!" And as I handed the locket back, I thought of the unmarried childless parson in khaki who considered that "three or four years of war may be tremendously worth while." Later I met and dined with two of the male correspondents of the London Press.
The triplet movement seems inspired by the similar movement in the sonata Op. 110 from the beginning of the slow movement Adagio ma non troppo to the end. In both the feverish pulsation indicates a morbid condition, leading in Beethoven to a calmly triumphant end.
At the same time there prevailed certain forms of civility, which seemed a trifle excessive. For instance, when the Doctor entered my room, and I gave him "Buon giorno," he was wont to reply, "Troppo gentile!" too kind of you! My newspaper boy came regularly for a few days, always complaining of feverish symptoms, then ceased to appear.
To these sailors the father would talk in each sailor's own tongue, whether it were Dutch or Danish, Spanish or Swedish, Russian or Prussian, or a patois of something else, always to the great wonderment of The Boy, who to this day, after many years of foreign travel, knows little more of French than "Combien?" and little more of Italian than "Troppo caro."
But as the party marched indignantly up and down the aisles, another smell comes to join the incense garlic. A merry, good-humoured little priest appears; it is the friend of the lady cousin. He knew no English but "Yis, Yis"; they little Italian but the essentials for travel: "Troppo, bello, antiquo."
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