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STORIES
doubt made her voice loudest of all in the chorus of mutual praise and
thanks which covered the song's abrupt finale。
And then there came a terrible ordeal。 Miss Prunty； anxious to divert
the current of her friend's ideas； had suggested that the girl should sing。
Signor Graziano and madame insisted； they would take no refusal。
〃Sing； sing； little bird！〃 cried the old lady。
〃But； madame； how can oneafter you？〃
The homage in the young girl's voice made the little diva more good…
humouredly insistent than before； and Goneril was too well…bred to make a
fuss。 She stood by the piano wondering which to choose； the Handels that
she always drawled or the Pinsuti that she always galloped。 Suddenly she
came by an inspiration。
〃Madame；〃 she pleaded； 〃may I sing one of Angiolino's songs？〃
〃Whatever you like； /cara mia/。〃
And； standing by the piano； her arms hanging loose； she began a chant
such as the peasants use working under the olives。 Her voice was small
and deep； with a peculiar thick sweetness that suited the song； half
humourous； half pathetic。 These were the words she sang：
〃Vorrei morir di morte piccinina； Morta la sera e viva la mattina。
Vorrei morire； e non vorrei morire； Vorrei veder chi mi piange e chi ride；
Vorrei morir； e star sulle finestre； Vorrei veder chi mi cuce la veste；
Vorrei morir； e stare sulla scala； Vorrei veder chi mi porta la bara：
Vorrei morir； e vorre' alzar la voce； Vorrei veder chi mi porta la croce。〃
〃Very well chosen； my dear；〃 said Miss Prunty； when the song was
finished。
〃And very well sung； my Gonerilla！〃 cried the old lady。
But the signorino went up to the piano and shook hands with her。
〃Little Mees Goneril；〃 he said； 〃you have the makings of an artist。〃
The two old ladies stared； for； after all； Goneril's performance had
been very simple。 You see； they were better versed in music than in human
nature。
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STORIES
CHAPTER III
SI VIEILLESSE POUVAIT！
Signor Graziano's usual week of holiday passed and lengthened into
almost two months； and still he stayed on at the villa。 The two old ladies
were highly delighted。
〃At last he has taken my advice！〃 cried Miss Prunty。 〃I always told
him those premature gray hairs came from late hours and Roman air。〃
Madame Petrucci shook her head and gave a meaning smile。 Her
friendship with the signorino had begun when he was a lad and she a
charming married woman； like many another friendship； it had begun with
a flirtation； and perhaps （who knows？） she thought the flirtation had
revived。
As for Goneril； she considered him the most charming old man she
had ever known； and liked nothing so much as to go out a walk with him。
That； indeed； was one of the signorino's pleasures； he loved to take the
young girl all over his gardens and vineyards； talking to her in the amiable；
half…petting； half…mocking manner that he had adopted from the first； and
twice a week he gave her a music lesson。
〃She has a splendid organ！〃 he would say。
〃/Vous croyez/？〃 fluted Madame Petrucci； with the vilest accent and
the most aggravating smile imaginable。
It was the one hobby of the signorino's that she regarded with
disrespect。
Goneril too was a little bored by the music lesson； but； on the other
hand； the walks delighted her。
One day Goneril was out with her friend。
〃Are the peasants very much afraid of you； signore？〃 she asked。
〃Am I such a tyrant？〃 counter…questioned the signorino。
〃No； but they are always begging me to ask you things。 Angiolino
wants to know if he may go for three days to see his uncle at Fiesole。〃
〃Of course。〃
〃But why； then； don't they ask you themselves？ Is it they think me so
cheeky？〃
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STORIES
〃Perhaps they think I can refuse you nothing。〃
〃/Che！/ In that case they would ask Madame Petrucci。〃
Goneril ran on to pick some China roses。 The signorino stopped
confounded。
〃It is impossible！〃 he cried。 〃She cannot think I am in love with Giulia！
She cannot think I am so old as that！〃
The idea seemed horrible to him。 He walked on very quickly till he
came up to Goneril； who was busy plucking roses in a hedge。
〃For whom are those flowers？〃 he asked。
〃Some are for you and some are for Madame Petrucci。〃
〃She is a charming woman； Madame Petrucci。〃
〃A dear old lady；〃 murmured Goneril； much more interested in her
posy。
〃Old； do you call her？〃 said the signorino； rather anxiously。 〃I should
scarcely call her that； though of course she is a good deal older than either
of us。〃
〃Either of us！〃 Goneril looked up astounded。 Could the signorino have
suddenly gone mad？
He blushed a little under his brown skin that had reminded her of a
coffee…bean。
〃She is a good ten years older than I am；〃 he explained。
〃Ah； well； ten years isn't much。〃
〃You don't think so？〃 he cried； delighted。 Who knows？ she might not
think even thirty too much。
〃Not at that age；〃 said Goneril； blandly。
Signor Graziano could think of no reply。
But from that day one might have dated a certain assumption of
youthfulness in his manners。 At cards it was always the signorino and
Goneril against the two elder ladies； in his conversation； too； it was to the
young girl that he constantly appealed； as if she were his natural
companionshe； and not his friends of thirty years。 Madame Petrucci；
always serene and kind； took no notice of these little changes； but they
were particularly irritating to Miss Prunty； who was； after all； only four
years older than the signorino。
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That lady had； indeed； become more than usually sharp and foreboding。
She received the signorino's gay effusions in ominous silence； and would
frown darkly while Madame Petrucci petted her 〃little bird；〃 as she called
Goneril。 Once； indeed； Miss Prunty was heard to remark that it was
tempting Providence to have dealings with a creature whose very name
was a synonym for ingratitude。 But the elder lady only smiled and
declared that her Gonerilla was charming； delicious； a real sunshine in the
house。
〃Now I call on you to support me； signorino；〃 she cried one evening；
when the three elders sat together in the room； while Goneril watered the
roses on the terrace。 〃Is not my Gonerilla a charming little /bebe/？〃
Signor Graziano withdrew his eyes from the window。
〃Most charming； certainly； but scarcely such a child。 She is seventeen；
you know； my dear signora。〃
〃Seventeen！ /Santo Dio！/ And what is one at seventeen but an innocent；
playful； charming little kitten？〃
〃You are always right； m