Vendetta: a story of one forgotten eBook

Marie Corelli
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 542 pages of information about Vendetta.
it must have some poisonous or offensive taint about them, which she endeavors to cover by the aid of a chemical concoction.  I would not permit myself to think of this so “faithful Nina,” as she styled herself.  I resumed my reading, and continued it even at dinner, during which meal Vincenzo waited upon me with his usual silent gravity and decorum, though I could feel that he watched me with a certain solicitude.  I suppose I looked weary—­I certainly felt so, and retired to rest unusually early.  The time seemed to me so long—­would the end never come?  The next day dawned and trailed its tiresome hours after it, as a prisoner might trail his chain of iron fetters, until sunset, and then—­then, when the gray of the wintry sky flashed for a brief space into glowing red—­ then, while the water looked like blood and the clouds like flame—­ then a few words sped along the telegraph wires that stilled my impatience, roused my soul, and braced every nerve and muscle in my body to instant action.  They were plain, clear, and concise: 

“From Guido Ferrari, Rome, to Il Conte Cesare Olfva, Naples.—­Shall be with you on the 24th inst.  Train arrives at 6:30 P.M.  Will come to you as you desire without fail.”


Christmas Eve!  The day had been extra chilly, with frequent showers of stinging rain, but toward five o’clock in the afternoon the weather cleared.  The clouds, which had been of a dull uniform gray, began to break asunder and disclose little shining rifts of pale blue and bright gold; the sea looked like a wide satin ribbon shaken out and shimmering with opaline tints.  Flower girls trooped forth making the air musical with their mellow cries of “Fiori! chi vuol fiori” and holding up their tempting wares—­not bunches of holly and mistletoe such as are known in England, but roses, lilies, jonquils, and sweet daffodils.  The shops were brilliant with bouquets and baskets of fruits and flowers; a glittering show of etrennes, or gifts to suit all ages and conditions, were set forth in tempting array, from a box of bonbons costing one franc to a jeweled tiara worth a million, while in many of the windows were displayed models of the “Bethlehem,” with babe Jesus lying in his manger, for the benefit of the round-eyed children—­who, after staring fondly at His waxen image for some time, would run off hand in hand to the nearest church where the usual Christmas creche was arranged, and there kneeling down, would begin to implore their “dear little Jesus,” their “own little brother,” not to forget them, with a simplicity of belief that was as touching as it was unaffected.

Project Gutenberg
Vendetta: a story of one forgotten from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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