Note: Translator Pauline Bancroft Flach died in 1966, less than 70 years ago. Therefore, this work is protected by copyright, restricting your legal rights to reproduce it. However, you are welcome to view it on screen, as you do now. Read more about copyright.
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TWO SONGS • 119
they do it still.” — “ Take care; I shall look at what
you have written when you are gone.” — “ But you
cannot read.” — “I have Gaetano.” — “And Luca;
you had better ask Luca.” .
When Donna Micaela came home, she repented of
what she had done. Would Donna Elisa really
show the flower to Gaetano? No, no; Donna Elisa
was too sensible. But if he had seen her from the
window of his workshop? Well, he would not
answer. She had made herself ridiculous.
No, never, never again would she do such a thing.
It was best for her not to know. It was best for her
that Gaetano did not ask after her.
Nevertheless she wondered what answer she would
get. But none came.
So another week passed. Then it came into Don
Ferrante’s mind that he would like to go out for a
drive in the afternoon.
In the carriage-house of the summer palace there
was an ancient state carriage, which was certainly
more than a hundred years old. It was very high;
it had a small, narrow body, which swung on leather
straps between the back wheels, which were as big
as the water-wheels of a mill. It was painted white,
with gilding; it was lined with red velvet, and had
a coat of arms on its doors.
Once it had been a great honor to ride in that
carriage; and when the old Alagonas had passed in
it along the Corso, people had stood on their
thresholds, and crowded to their doors, and hung over
balconies to see them. But then it had been drawn
by spirited barbs; then the coachman had worn a
wig, and the footman gold braid, and it had been
driven with embroidered silk reins.
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