Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 18, 2025
Fausch came nearer and interrupted the landlord. Still in the same broken and difficult way he went on: "You said yourself that the boy is all right. He ought to come into notice I think." At that Simmen laughed: "Only not for my girl not for Vincenza! She can take her choice by and by Smith I tell you, down in Italy as well as on our side." His laugh turned into a smile.
"As it happened," the narrator went on, "Padre Cristoforo was already interested in the matter, because the mother of Mrs. Luttrell's nurse, Vincenza, had, before her death, confided to him her suspicions, and those of Vincenza's husband concerning the child that she had nursed.
As he sculled, his figure bent forward and back with a great pleasure in the motion, and something like timidity came over Vincenza as she kept on looking at him, and she said hesitatingly: "You are a handsome fellow Franz Fausch." "Shall we sing something?" asked Cain. Vincenza did not answer, but as he unconsciously began to sing, she joined in with him.
At first they sang of their fatherland, then one of the soft Italian songs that Vincenza knew and had taught Cain, and then a home song of longing: "Why, oh why, my heart, this sadness." Cain sculled quite silently.
"There is some one else too, Vincenza," said the landlord, and pointed to Cain, and the child, without any timidity, laughed and gave her hand to the boy also. "His name is Franz," said her father. "Good morning, Franz!" said Vincenza. "You look like a negress beside the boy," laughed Simmen, and placed the girl close beside Cain.
Luigi laughed, but a little uneasily. "It is time, then, that the devil went to paradise; he makes better for us than the saints, to whom you pray so " "S-sh!" Vincenza crossed herself quickly. "That is a great wickedness." Luigi picked up the bills, examining them closely. Apparently they were good.
There was a child living in the village of San Stefano, a child who had been brought up as Vincenza's child, but Vincenza had told her this boy was the true Brian Luttrell, and that her son had been taken back to Scotland as Mrs. Luttrell's child." "I see your drift now," remarked Percival, quietly re-lighting his pipe. "Where is this Italian Brian Luttrell to be found?" "Need I tell you?
And he walked heavily away, with head bowed down, showing in his bearing the old churlishness. He did not look back again. Cain and Vincenza looked after him for a long time. They could see him plainly. If he sometimes disappeared around a bend of the road, he would reappear far below, and they would soon see him again, walking behind the wagon, dark and heavy and big. Cain was very still.
This woman, Vincenza Vasari by name, was at first domiciled in the villa itself with her charge; but as more dangerous symptoms declared themselves in Mrs. Luttrell's case, it was thought better that she should take the baby to her own home, which was a fairly clean and respectable cottage close to the gates of the villa. Here Mr.
"No, nor for every dollar you have in the world. I don't approve your practice and I won't share your plunder. I am sorry for you personally, but I can't help that. I won't oust you. I will make such use of the story as any newspaper man would make, and so I give you fair warning. You may save yourself if you can." "Then you do not intend to communicate with the heirs?" began Vincenza eagerly.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking