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Updated: June 14, 2025
Soon after his advent in Rome, Thorwaldsen met, at the country-house of his friend, critic and benefactor Zoega, a young woman who was destined to have a profound influence upon his life. Anna Maria Magnani was lady's maid and governess in the Zoega household.
I suspected it from the beginning. What do you think of yourself now? Grabbed by the back of the neck in the powerful hands of Geir Zoega! Not a particle of use for you to whine, and yelp, and try to beg off. You have been a very bad fellow, and must suffer the consequences.
Zoega shouted at him as usual, and as usual Brusa only barked the louder and ran the faster. The sheep scattered over the valley, Brusa pursuing all the loose members of the flock with a degree of energy and enthusiasm that would have done credit to a better cause. Upon the lambs he was particularly severe.
"Why no, sir, I've never heard of a case," answered Zoega, in his usual grave manner; "in this country every body takes snuff, but I never knew it to burst any body's head." It was really refreshing the matter-of-fact manner in which my guide regarded all the affairs of life.
It does not require the aid of fiction to give it effect. Therefore, should you come across any thing in my narrative which may have escaped your notice, depend upon it I thought it was true or ought to be." "Yes, sir; I know you would never lie like some of these gentlemen." "Never! never, Zoega! I scorn a lying traveler above all things on earth."
Fortunately, a kick from one of the horses laid Brusa's aggressor yelping in the mud, an advantage of which Brusa promptly availed himself, and the pastor's dog would have fared badly in the issue but for the interference of Zoega, who separated the contending parties, and administered a grave rebuke to the party of our part respecting the impropriety of his conduct.
A worthier man than Geir Zoega does not exist, and I hereby certify that he afforded me entire satisfaction. No traveler who desires an honest, intelligent, and conscientious guide can do better than secure his services. Long life and happiness to you, Geir Zoega!
Then Zoega pushed it all over, and it went slapping and dashing down into the steaming shaft. For a little while it whirled about, and surged, and boiled, and tumbled over and over in the depths of the churn with a hollow, swashing noise terribly ominous of what was to come. I peeped over the edge to try if I could detect the first symptoms of the approaching eruption.
And should all the Geysers blow up together and boil me on the spot, what would people generally think of it? Or suppose the ground were to give way and swallow me up, what difference would it make in the price of consols or the temperature of the ocean? When Zoega came back, he said, if I pleased, we would now go to work and cut sods for the Strokhr. It was a favorable time "to see him heave up."
Meantime I discovered a way of getting out myself by a complicated system of jumps, and presently we all stood in a group, Zoega scraping the mud off the sides of my trembling steed, while I ventured to remark that it was "a little boggy in that direction." "Yes, sir," said Zoega; "that was the reason I was going round." And a very sensible reason it was too, as I now cheerfully admitted.
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