Vittoria — Volume 8 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 119 pages of information about Vittoria — Volume 8.

“There is a place called Venice, and there is a place called Rome, and both places are pretty places and famous places; and there is a thing called the fashion; and these pretty places and famous places set the fashion:  and there is a place called Milan, and a place called Bergamo, and a place called Brescia, and they all want to follow the fashion, for they are giddy-pated baggages.  What is the fashion, mama?  The fashion, my dear, is &c. &c. &c.:—­Extract of lecture to my little daughter, Amalia, who says she forgets you; but Giacomo sends his manly love.  Oh, good God! should I have blood in my lips when I kissed him, if I knew that he was old enough to go out with a sword in his hand a week hence?  I seem every day to be growing more and more all mother.  This month in front of us is full of thunder.  Addio!”

When Merthyr stood in sight of Milan an army was issuing from the gates.



Merthyr saw Laura first.  He thought that Vittoria must be lying on her couch:  but Laura simply figured her arm in a sling, and signified, more than said, that Vittoria was well and taking the air.  She then begged hungrily for news of Rome, and again of Rome, and sat with her hands clasped in her lap to listen.  She mentioned Venice in a short breath of praise, as if her spirit could not repose there.  Rome, its hospitals, its municipal arrangements, the names of the triumvirs, the prospects of the city, the edicts, the aspects of the streets, the popularity of the Government, the number of volunteers ranked under the magical Republic—­ of these things Merthyr talked, at her continual instigation, till, stopping abruptly, he asked her if she wished to divert him from any painful subject.  “No, no!” she cried, “it’s only that I want to feel an anchor.  We are all adrift.  Sandra is in perfect health.  Our bodies, dear Merthyr, are enjoying the perfection of comfort.  Nothing is done here except to keep us from boiling over.”

“Why does not Count Ammiani come to Rome?” said Merthyr.

“Why are we not all in Rome?  Yes, why! why!  We should make a carnival of our own if we were.”

“She would have escaped that horrible knife,” Merthyr sighed.

“Yes, she would have escaped that horrible knife.  But see the difference between Milan and Rome, my friend!  It was a blessed knife here.  It has given her husband back to her; it has destroyed the intrigues against her.  It seems to have been sent—­I was kneeling in the cathedral this morning, and had the very image crossing my eyes—­from the saints of heaven to cut the black knot.  Perhaps it may be the means of sending us to Rome.”

Laura paused, and, looking at him, said, “It is so utterly impossible for us women to comprehend love without folly in a man; the trait by which we recognize it!  Merthyr, you dear Englishman, you shall know everything.  Do we not think a tisane a weak washy drink, when we are strong?  But we learn, when we lie with our chins up, and our ten toes like stopped organ-pipes—­as Sandra says—­we learn then that it means fresh health and activity, and is better than rivers of your fiery wines.  You love her, do you not?”

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Vittoria — Volume 8 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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