Often, from not knowing enough of Italian and Italian
ways, I get hot all over when an ordinary discussion is going on, thinking
that blows are about to be exchanged. The Mother-Aunt had hung a wonderful
satin skirt out of window for decoration; and when she leaned over it in a
bodice of the same color, it looked as if she were sitting with her legs
out as well! I suppose it was this peculiar effect that, when the King and
Queen came by earlier in the morning, won for her a special bow and smile.
I must hurry or I shall miss the post that I wish to catch. There seems
little chance now of my getting you in Venice; but elsewhere perhaps you
will drop to me out of the clouds.
Your own and most loving.
LETTER XXXIX.
My Own, Own Beloved: Say that my being away does not seem too long? I have
not had a letter yet, and that makes me somehow not anxious but
compunctious; only writing to you of all I do helps to keep me in good
conscience. Not the other foot gone to the mender's, I hope, with the same
obstructive accompaniments as went to the setting-up again of the last? If
I don't hear soon, you will have me dancing on wires, which cost as much
by the word as a gondola by the hour.
Yesterday we went to see Carpaccio at his best in San Giorgio di
Schiavone: two are St. George pictures, three St. Jeromes, and two of some
other saint unknown to me.
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