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Gissing, George, 1857-1903

"Veranilda"

The houses are so big and so close
together they scarce leave air to breathe; so old, too, they look as
if they would tumble upon your head. I have small liking for
Ravenna, where there is hardly dry land to walk upon, and you can't
sleep for the frogs. Verona is better. But, best of all, Mediolanum.
There, if he will listen to me, my brother shall have his palace and
his court--as they say some of the emperors did, I know not how
long ago.'
Still gazing at the far distance, Veranilda murmured:
'I never saw the city nearer than this.'
'I would no one might ever look upon it again!' cried Athalfrida,
her blue eyes dark with anger and her cheeks hot. 'I would that the
pestilence, which haunts its streets, might make it desolate, and
that the muddy river, which ever and again turns it into a swamp,
would hide its highest palace under an eternal flood.'
Veranilda averted her face and kept silence. Thereupon the other
seemed to repent of having spoken so vehemently.
'Well, that's how I feel sometimes,' she said, in a voice suddenly
gentle. 'But I forgot--or I wouldn't have said it.


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