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.
Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Second book - IV. The Old Martyrdom
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
Below is the raw OCR text
from the above scanned image.
Do you see an error? Proofread the page now!
Här nedan syns maskintolkade texten från faksimilbilden ovan.
Ser du något fel? Korrekturläs sidan nu!
This page has been proofread at least once.
(diff)
(history)
Denna sida har korrekturlästs minst en gång.
(skillnad)
(historik)
THE OLD MARTYRDOM
219
she ran. When she finally saw the corner of the
theatre with the red lanterns under the roof and the
big illustrated play-bills, she felt as if she had gone
many miles. • .
When she came in to Don Antonio, he sat with
his big head leaning on his hand and stared at the
table. It was terrible to see Don Antonio. In
those last weeks he had begun to lose his hair; on
the very top of his head it was so thin that the skin
shone through. Was it strange, when he was in
such trouble? While she had been away he had
taken all his puppets out and inspected them. He
did that now every day. He used to sit and look at
the puppet that played Armida. Was she no longer
beautiful and beguiling? he would ask. And he
tried to polish up Roland’s sword and Charlemagne’s
crown. Donna Emilia saw that he had gilded the
emperor’s crown again; it was for at least the fifth
time. But then he had stopped in the midst of his
work and had sat down to brood. He had noticed it
himself. It was not gilding that was lacking; it
was an idea.
As Donna Emilia came into the room, she
stretched out her hands to her husband.
“Look at me, Don Antonio Greco,” she said.
“ I bear in my hands golden bowls full of ripe figs!”
And she told how she had prayed, and what she
had vowed, and what she had been advised.
When she said that to Don Antonio, he sprang
up. His arms fell stiffly beside his body, and his
hair raised itself from his head. He was seized
with an unspeakable terror. “’ The Old
Martyrdom ’!” he screamed, “1 The Old Martyrdom ’!”
For “The Old Martyrdom” is a miracle-play,
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
