Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
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  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
The Vicar of the Marches

The Vicar of the Marches

Scollard, Clinton

Paperback

General World History

Currently unavailable to order

ISBN10: 1150735813
ISBN13: 9781150735813
Publisher: General Books
Pages: 54
Weight: 0.47
Height: 0.32 Width: 9.01 Depth: 5.98
Language: English
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated.1911 Excerpt: ... CHAPTER XX WHAT HAPPENED AT FERRARA In the street of Santa Maria della Rosa, not far from the church of that name, stood the Palazzo Deslemaini, gray, stately and forbidding. The memory of it to this hour fills me with a repugnance that is akin to horror. The street was a small thoroughfare, and the palace dominated it, chilled it so I came to feel, and made it even more insignificant than it really was. When I left Alfrieda at the door of the Palazzo Deslemaini in the hands of her relatives, and went to seek out some lodgings which Di Luggio in his kindness assured me I would find comfortable (Berthold accompanying me), I was, in so far as the sorrowful experiences through which I had passed would permit me to be, a happy man. In less than a week I was miserable. In the Palazzo Deslemaini dwelt the brothers Arnaldo and Giacomo, the former a man of affairs, married and childless, the latter a scholarly recluse, unmarried. These men were the cousins of Alfrieda's father. Arnaldo Deslemaini gave me the impression of being bloodless. Tall, thin, slightly stooping, gray-eyed and sparse of hair, he was suspicious, calculating and cold. His wife, Angelica, most unfittingly named, was his precise counterpart. Giacomo Deslemaini was of a markedly different nature, yet his long years of seclusion had renderd him shy, reserved, and constrained. Such was the society into which Alfrieda, she who was naturally all sunshine and blithesomeness, was thrown. It was like condemning a flower, a sweet thing that longed for the free airs of heaven, to perpetual gloom. And I whom she had grown to love with the same single-heartedness with which I loved her was made clearly to understand at the close of my second visit, parting from Arnaldo Deslemaini at the street door, that my ...

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