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Anastase answered Aquila arms asked believe Bellegra cardinal cerning chair child Corona cousin cried dark dead dear deed Don Giovanni Donna Faustina door Eccellenza exclaimed expression eyes face father Faustina Montevarchi feel felt Flavia Frangipani Frascati Garibaldi Garibaldians gendarmes Giovanni Gouache's hand head heard heart hour husband Ilario innocent Italian knew laughed librarian looked Lotario Marchese marriage marry matter Mentana mind Monsieur Gouache Monte Rotondo morning murder nature never night odd sympathy old prince once Orsino Palazzo Montevarchi parchment passed person Porta Pia Porta San Paolo prefect present Prince Montevarchi Prince Saracinesca princess realised replied returned Rome San Giacinto scudi seemed Signor silence smile speak stood strange suddenly suppose surprised talk tell thing thought told tone took turned varchi voice waiting wife wish woman words young girl Zouave
Page 38 - Without a single exception, every foreigner, poet or prose-writer, who has treated of these people has more or less grossly misunderstood them . . . To understand Italians a man must have been born and bred among them.5 The work itself, however, can hardly be said to live up to Crawford's pretension.
Page 86 - ... guise of a female attendant. Her heart failed her. She knew her brother's implacable resolve. She walked as if in a dream. Arrived at Sir Arthur Willesden's residence, Claudia pushed open the front door, and quietly ascended to the first floor, Raphael following. Louis took up a position as sentinel in the shadow of a doorway on the opposite side of the street.
Page 287 - ... each truth as it was uttered. He would have defined himself in very much the same way without the least false pride ; but to hear his own estimate of himself, given by another person as the true one, was hard to bear. A painter, yes — he was proud of it. A man with a profession, yes — was it not far nobler to earn money by good work than to inherit what others had stolen in former times ? A man without a name — was not his own beginning to be famous.
Page 25 - ... staring at her. A few minutes later Giovanni found himself in a narrow, high room, lighted by one window, which showed the enormous thickness of the walls in the deep embrasure. The vaulted ceiling was painted in fresco with a representation of Apollo in the act of drawing his bow, arrayed for the time being in his quiver, while his other garments, of yellow and blue, floated everywhere save over his body. The floor of the room was of red bricks, which had once been waxed, and the furniture was...
Page 38 - I do not hesitate to say that, without a single exception, every foreigner, poet or prosewriter, who has treated of these people has more or less grossly misunderstood them.
Page 26 - It seems to me that there is but one thing to do, if you are really strong enough. Send for your clothes, get up, go into the drawing-room and thank the princess for her hospitality.
Page 103 - I will make a proposal," said San Giacinto. " You shall give your daughter a portion. Whatever be the amount, up to a reasonable limit, which you choose to give, I will settle a like sum in such a manner that at my death it shall revert to her, and to her children by me, if she have any.
Page 287 - ... that in spite of all fame, all glory, all genius, he could never be what the miserly, cowardly, lying old man before him was by birth — a Roman prince. The conclusion was at once inexpressibly humiliating and supremely ludicrous. He felt himself laughable in his own eyes, and was conscious that a smile was on his face, which Montevarchi would not understand. The old gentleman was still talking. He was going to say ' by constant recourse to prayer,' but he reflected that Gouache was probably...
Page 276 - There was a shade of bitterness in the laugh that accompanied the last words. 'You do not know what things he will say,' repeated Faustina, in despairing tones. ' This is absurd,' said Gouache. ' I can bear anything he can say well enough. He is an old man and I am a young one, and have no intention of taking offence. He may say what he pleases, call me a villain, a brigand — that is your favourite Italian expression — a thief, a liar, anything he pleases. I will not be angry. There shall be...
Page 38 - Italians a man must have been born and bred among them ; and even then the harder, fiercer instinct, which dwells in northern blood, may deceive the student and lead him far astray. The Italian is an exceedingly simple creature, and is apt to share the opinion of the ostrich, who ducks his head and believes his whole body is hidden. Foreigners use strong language concerning the Italian lie ; but this only proves how extremely transparent the deception is. It is indeed a singular fact, but one which...