Daphne: An Autumn Pastoral

Name: Daphne: An Autumn Pastoral
Author: Margaret Pollock Sherwood

by Margaret Pollock Sherwood

Pages: about 86
Category: Literature & Fiction
Language: English
Reading time: 1.6 h at 250 wpm

Start readingThe whole book, as cards or one word at a time. 53 min at 450 wpm in Read mode.

From the opening

"Her Excellency,--will she have the politeness," said Daphne slowly, reading from a tiny Italian-English phrase-book, "the politeness to"--She stopped helpless. Old Giacomo gazed at her with questioning eyes. The girl turned the pages swiftly and chose another phrase.
"Si, si, Signorina; yes, yes," he assented with voice and shoulders and a flourish of the spoon he was polishing. "Capisco; I understand."
"Down there," she said gravely, pointing toward the top of the great hill on whose side the villa stood.
"Certainly," answered Giacomo with a bow, too much pleased by understanding when there was no reason for it to be captious in regard to the girl's speech. "The Signorina non ha paura, not 'fraid?"
"I'm not afraid of anything," was the answer in English. The Italian version of it was a shaking of the head. Then both dictionary and phrase-book were consulted.
"To return," she stated finally, "to return to eat at six hours." Then she looked expectantly about.
"Assunta?" she said inquiringly, with a slight shrug of her shoulders, for other means of expression had failed.
"Capisco, capisco," shouted Giacomo in his excitement, trailing on the marble floor the chamois skin with which he had been polishing the silver, and speaking in what seemed to his listener one word of a thousand syllables.
Daphne looked dubiously at him, though he had stated the case with entire accuracy, and had suggested for her solitary meal what she most liked. There was a slight pucker in her white forehead, and she vouchsafed no answer to what she did not understand.
"A rivederla!" answered Giacomo, with a courtly sweep of the chamois skin.
The girl climbed steadily up the moist, steep path leading to the deep shadow of a group of ilex trees on the hill. At her side a stream of water trickled past drooping maidenhair fern and over immemorial moss. Here and there it fell in little cascades, making a sleepy murmur in the warm air of afternoon.

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Daphne: An Autumn Pastoral

From the opening

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