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Updated: June 14, 2025
Then, while the others began to count the fish, he went to the boats to put on his clothes, accompanied by Gaspare. "Why did you swim towards the rocks, signorino?" asked the boy, looking at him with a sharp curiosity. Delarey hesitated for a moment. He was inclined, he scarcely knew why, to keep silence about the cry he had heard. Yet he wanted to ask Gaspare something.
At Giovanna's first words, though she did not entirely understand them, she became uneasy, because Giovanna interspersed them with sighs. Her voice sounded as if she might have been crying. Aurora had grown accustomed to the fact that those hard old eyes of Giovanna's took easily to tears, and that she sighed by the thousand the moment she was in anxiety over her signorino.
He kept his hand on hers and held it on the warm ground. "Perhaps it is the sun," he said. "I lose my head here, and I lose my heart!" She still looked rather surprised, and again her ignorance fascinated him. He thought that it was far more attractive than any knowledge could have been. "I'm horribly happy here, but I oughtn't to be happy." "Why, signorino? It is better to be happy."
He felt a sickness at his heart. "I should like to live in London always," said Gaspare, excitedly. "In London! You don't know it. In London you will scarcely ever see the sun." "Aren't there theatres in London, signorino?" "Theatres? Yes, of course. But there is no sea, Gaspare, there are no mountains." "Are there many soldiers? Are there beautiful women?"
"Yes." "And the pictures in the hall?" "Those too." "Taken from nature, eh?" "Nature," said the Italian, sententiously, perhaps evasively, "lets nothing be taken from her." "Oh!" said Frank, puzzled again. "Well, I must wish you good morning, sir; I am very glad you are coming." "Without compliment?" "Without compliment." "A rivedersi good-by for the present, my young signorino.
He caught no glimpse of the Duchessa. Yet he took no steps to get his boxes packed. And then Marietta fell ill. One morning, when she came into his room, to bring his tea, and to open the Venetian blinds that shaded his windows, she failed to salute him with her customary brisk "Buon giorno, Signorino." Noticing which, and wondering, he, from his pillow, called out, "Buon' giorno, Marietta."
"A blue silk dress and a pair of ear-rings longer much longer than those women wore." "Really, signorino? Really?" "Really and truly! Do you doubt me?" "No." She sighed. "How I wish you had been there! But this year " She stopped, hesitating. "Yes this year?" "In June there will be the fair again."
But perhaps you can tell me something." "What is it, Signorino Marchesino?" said the man, looking eagerly at the cigarette case which was now open, and which displayed two tempting rows of fat Egyptian cigarettes reposing side by side. "Do you know a boat white with a green line which sometimes comes into the harbor from the direction of Posilipo? It was here this afternoon, or it passed here.
We have lost a benefactor. If the poor signorino had lived he would have given me a new boat. He had promised me a boat. For he would come fishing with me nearly every day. He was like a compare " Salvatore stopped abruptly. His eyes were again on Gaspare. "And you say," began the Pretore, with a certain heavy pomposity, "that you did not see the signore at all yesterday?" "No, signore.
"Buon' giorno, Signorino," she returned but in a whisper. "What's the matter? Is there cause for secrecy?" Peter asked. "I have a cold, Signorino," she whispered, pointing to her chest. "I cannot speak." The Venetian blinds were up by this time; the room was full of sun. He looked at her. Something in her face alarmed him. It seemed drawn and set, it seemed flushed.
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