The Argosy — page 295: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

5 278 A Freak of Fortune. At that moment the Sagrestano came forward. ‘Sense, signora,” said he, “ but it strikes me as molto curioso to see you here, when so many garlands will be wanted. Why, the Soyelle Pie have been up all night making devices.” “Fe ‘Where is blind Girolamo ?” asked I, rather tartly. “He is following the example of blind Bartimmeo,” replied the Sagrestano, intending this for a little joke; “and is now sitting by the road-side to Castel Gondolfo, that the shadow of the Vicar of Christ may fall upon him.” “Vicar of Christ!” repeated I, indignantly. “Why, then, did not the Arciprete send me word ?” “Why did he not?” repeated he; then added, in a half-confidential tone, “I am afraid heisill. He should see the medico, signora. He will not believe, because the news has come through Salvina, who never goes to confession. Signora, between you and me, there’s been a quarrel in the village this very morning between two men about this believing and not believing, and one is badly stabbed. But I say, signora, the best thing is to be ready.” This seemed to be the general sentiment, for, as I made my way back, i encountered everywhere signsof festal preparation. Women at their open windows were arranging their white tavagalia ; or were out in the street in their orange or green petticoats, wearing their best coral necklaces and heavy gold ear-rings. Everywhere a loud chattering and a salutation greeted me in passing about Holy Father’s visit. Most of the usual beggars, too, had disappeared ; gone like Girolamo to receive the passing holy shadow as early as possible; whilst the bed-ridden, the disabled from rheumatism, cramp, or ague were crawling out, or being carried out and placed on the road-side. And yet, in all this show of excited expectation, the effect of which was both pretty and picturesque, the Villa Zuccone alone remained silent and unadorned. At the door, however, I encountered the stout, ‘sallow-complexioned, but handsome padrona, Signora Mariana, coming in from the garden, where she had been hanging out her washing. She was still in her everyday dress, but looking very flurried and disconcerted. Following close after, was her slender, pretty daughter Pépina, her black eyes full of tears. Signs of despair were in both their countenances at sight of me. Wringing her yet wet hands, the Signora Madre poured out the most voluble abuse against her husband, 1l stupido Zuccone, who would not believe that Most Holy Father was coming to Monte del Caccia that morning. Everybody else knew he was coming and was getting ready—but Zuccone was an ass! . On this out came Zuccone himself, in a red-hot rage, flourishing his arms, and calling his wife a hundred times an ass for thinking that the _ Holy Father would do such dishonour to himself and the monsignore as to come unannounced. He swore he would dismiss Roberto and Gomicbooks: corr