It is not
amusing there, in Tuscany. It is a little out of repairs. Twice a year I
go to see my mother and all those brothers and sisters--it is enough!
And the Countess, my mother, has said to me two hundred times, 'Marry
with an Americaine, Nicco--it is my command.' 'Nicco,' she calls me--it
is what you call jack-name."
The Count smiled deprecatingly, and looked at me with a great deal of
sentiment, twisting his moustache. Another pause ensued. It's all very
well to say I should have dismissed him long before this, but I should
like to know on what grounds?
"I wish very much to write my mother that I have found the American lady
for a new Countess Filgiatti," he said at last with emotion.
"Well," I said awkwardly, "I hope you will find her."
"Ah, Mees Wick," exclaimed the Count recklessly, "you are that American
lady. When I saw you in the railway I said, 'It is my vision!' At once I
desired to embrace the papa. And he was not cold with me--he told me of
the soda. I had courage, I had hope. At first when I see you to-day I
am a little derange. In the Italian way I speak first with the papa.
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