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Updated: June 19, 2025
It was suggested to him that the poniard would be the most effectual instrument, but the man turned up his eyes with pious horror at the proposition. He was ready to poison Gennaro Annese whenever he might be called upon to do so; but to poniard him, he said, would be disgraceful, and unbecoming an officer of the guards!
"They all are, and the island, and the house upon it, and this clear yellow tea, and this brown toast, and this butter from Lombardy. They all are." "I believe you are feeling good all over, Monsieur Emile." "San Gennaro knows I am." He drank some tea, and ate some toast, spreading the butter upon it with voluptuous deliberation. "Then I'm sure he's pleased." "Paris, hateful Paris!"
"Imagine that you are sitting at a table in Albano's back room," was all he said. "This is what you would be hearing. This is my 'electric ear' in other words the dictograph, used, I am told, by the Secret Service of the United States. Wait, in a moment you will hear Gennaro come in. Luigi and Vincenzo, translate what you hear. My knowledge of Italian is pretty rusty."
Before the end of the year, Beatrix whispered in my ear one evening: 'My dear Felicite, I start to-morrow for Italy with Conti. I was not surprised; she regarded herself as united for life to Gennaro, and she suffered from the restraints imposed upon her; she escaped one evil by rushing into a greater. Conti was wild with happiness, the happiness of vanity alone.
He's asking the gruff-voiced fellow if he will have another bottle of wine. He says he will. Good. They must be at Prince Street now we'll give them a few minutes more, not too much, for word will be back to Albano's like wildfire, and they will get Gennaro after all. Ah, they are drinking again. What was that, Luigi? The money is all right, he says? Now, Vincenzo, out with the lights!"
"By the blood of my patron saint," cried a stentorian voice, "if I catch you between my finger and thumb, I will straighten your back for the rest of your days." "Who are you falling out with, Gennaro?" "With this accursed hunchback, who has been worrying my back for the last hour, as though he could see through it."
"'A fine opera is "I Pagliacci." Now listen for the answer." A moment elapsed, then, "Not without Gennaro," came a gruff voice in Italian from the dictograph. A silence ensued. It was tense. "Wait, wait," said a voice which I recognized instantly as Gennaro's. "I cannot read this. What is this 23-1/2 Prince Street?" "No, 33-1/2. She has been left in the back yard," answered the voice.
Finally Gennaro told me, through the paper, that he would signal to me from a certain window, but when the signals came they were nothing but warnings, which were suddenly interrupted. It is very clear to me now that he knew Gorgiano to be close upon him, and that, thank God! he was ready for him when he came.
I am no longer on a footing of equality with the highest rank of women; and the more attentions are paid to me, the more my inferiority is made apparent. Gennaro could not comprehend this sensitiveness; but he has been so happy that it would ill become me not to have sacrificed my petty vanity to that great and noble thing, the life of an artist.
Nearly seven hundred years ago, that castle was the property of the noble Count Luigi Gennaro Guido Alphonso di Genova " "What was his other name?" said Dan. "He had no other name. The name I have spoken was all the name he had. He was the son of " "Poor but honest parents that is all right never mind the particulars go on with the legend."
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