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two canzonets
121
tano"—" And Luca. It is certainly better that you
ask Luca."
When Donna Micaela came home, she repented.
Would Donna Elisa show the flower to Gaetano ?
No, surely not, Donna Elisa was too wise. But what
if he himself had seen her from his workshop
window? Well, he would not say anything. But it
was she who was making herself ridiculous.
She would never do anything like that again,
never, never ! Was it not best for her not to know
anything ? It was best for her that Gaetano did not
care about her.
Nevertheless, she wondered what answer she should
get. But none came.
And so another week passed. One day Don
Ferrante took it into his head to go out riding in the
afternoon. In the carriage-shed of the summer palace
stood an old-fashioned gala-coach, which certainly
was a hundred years old or more. It was very high,
it had a small, narrow basket swinging on leather
straps between the back wheels, which were as
large as the water-wheel of a mill. It was painted
white, with gilding; it was covered with red velvet
and had a coat-of-arms on the door.
Once it had been a great honor to ride in that
carriage, and when the ancient Alagonas came
riding along the Corso, the people had risen from their
thresholds and crowded about the doors and leaned
out over the balconies to see it. Then it had been
drawn by graceful horses from Berberry, the
coachman had worn a wig, and the footman
galloons, and it had been driven with silk-embroidered
reins.
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