United States or Finland ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Cecco d'Ascoli had already blasphemously calculated the nativity of Christ, and deduced from it his death upon the Cross. For this he was burnt at the stake in 1327, at Florence. Doctrines of this sort ended by simply darkening men's whole perceptions of spiritual things. So much more worthy then of recognition is the warfare which the clear Italian spirit waged against this army of delusions.
Our American guests do not care what we have upon our bill of fare when they can steal a glance at the intensely dramatic and impassioned Cecco taking Pina into a corner of the dining-room and, seizing her hand, despairingly endeavour to find out his next duty. Then, with incredibly stiff back, he extends his right hand to the guest, as if the proffered plate held a scorpion instead of a tidbit.
The Festival of that day was far the most sumptuous hitherto known. The hint of Cecco del Vecchio, which so well depicted the character of his fellow-citizens, as yet it exists, though not to such excess, in their love of holyday pomp and gorgeous show, was not lost upon Rienzi.
"My masters," said Cecco, "the folly was in not beheading the Barons when he had them all in the net; and so Messere Baroncelli says. Why, but for that, we should never have lost so many tall fellows by the gate of San Lorenzo." "True, true, it was a shame; some say the Barons bought him."
Cecco was a wild-looking figure: a very ragged tunic, made shaggy and variegated by cloth-dust and clinging fragments of wool, gave relief to a pair of bare bony arms and a long sinewy neck; his square jaw shaded by a bristly black beard, his bridgeless nose and low forehead, made his face look as if it had been crushed down for purposes of packing, and a narrow piece of red rag tied over his ears seemed to assist in the compression.
Rienzi prepared to speak; his first word was as the signal of his own death. "Die, tyrant!" cried Cecco del Vecchio: and he plunged his dagger in the Senator's breast. "Die, executioner of Montreal!" muttered Villani: "thus the trust is fulfilled!" and his was the second stroke.
"And the Count?" asked Diva, having swallowed the serpents. "I fear not; Cecco Francesco, you know is a great stay-at-home. Amelia is looking forward very much to seeing Tilling. I shall insist on her making a long stay here, before she visits our relations at Whitchurch." Elizabeth found herself reserving judgment.
"What's the matter with Bill Jukes, you dog?" hissed Hook, towering over him. "The matter wi' him is he's dead, stabbed," replied Cecco in a hollow voice. "Bill Jukes dead!" cried the startled pirates. "The cabin's as black as a pit," Cecco said, almost gibbering, "but there is something terrible in there: the thing you heard crowing."
Then, again, all was solitary and deserted. Suddenly, there was heard the sound of a single trumpet! It swelled it gathered on the ear. Cecco del Vecchio looked up from his anvil! A solitary horseman paced slowly by the forge, and wound a long loud blast of the trumpet suspended round his neck, as he passed through the middle of the street.
The immense multitude received this intimation with curiosity and gladness, while those who had been in some measure prepared by Cecco del Vecchio, hailed it as an omen of their Tribune's unflagging resolution.
Word Of The Day