The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1867-01-24
From Every Saturday.
Captain Angelo Bertani.

dred and fifty-nine. That was ter
ribly hot summer all over Europe
In Florence the heat was very great;
and remained in the city all through
the dog days. instead of going to make
a villeggiatura amongst the hills or
by the seaside. For was not that the
year of the Austro-F Franco Italian
campaign? And did not every lover
of Italy feel chained to the focus of
news from the seat of WARP
Late in September, when the
nights were still warm and fine
enough to allow of ones enjoying a
cigar al fresco, / took the habit of 60
ing to the Bottegone every evening.
The Bottegone is one of the most fire.
quented cafes in Florence. It is in a
central part of the city, on the great
cathedral square, and in fine weather
the pavement before it's door is throng-
ed of an evening with drinkers aud
smokers. For the Piazza del Duomo
enjoys the benefit of whatever breeze
may be stirring in the city. There is
a legend to the effect that the devil,
having made an appointment to meet
the wind there, stepped into the ca
thedral on his way to the rendezvous,
having, says the irreverent fable,
particular business with some of the
canons. The business has detained the
devil ever since. And so, from that
day to this, the wind has been wand
ering up and down on the piazza,
vainly expecting to find the devil
| was alone in Florence, idle and
observant. One young man, among
the many frequenters of the Bottle
gone. noticed for some weeks as a
regular visitor. He had a tall, slen-
der, gentleman-like figure, bright,
dark southern eyes, and, though
dressed in plain clothes, clearl " had
the bearing of a soldier. He always
wore, pressed somewhat low over his
brows, soft felt hat, from which es-
capped on either side luxuriant mass
of hair, thick and waving, and as blue
black as the ravens wing. The old
reason for disliking DIR. Fell is quite
as potent, on occasions. for loving DIR.
Fell; and, without being able to &C
count for it to myself, | felt strong
attraction towards this young man.
Our little tables outside the cafe stood
side by side, and we naturally came to
interchange small civilities, such as
the proffer of fusee, the loan of a
newspaper, and so on. The first words
/ heard him utter, betrayed, In their
soft, sweet, lisping accents, that he
was Venetian. This circumstance
heightened my interest in him, for the
sympathy then felt for Venice in Italy
was very deep, very tender, and very
real.
He responded to my advances, and
[ came to know him. His name was
Angelo Bertani; he was a captain in
a regiment of the line, and had dis
tinguished himself at Solferino, where
he had received flesh wound in the
thigh, on which fever and ague had
supervened.
His quarters in Florence were on a
steep bit of hill at the back Of the
Palazzo Pitt. The first time | made
him a visit there was when he had
been laid up for some few days As |
left the more frequented thorough
fares to mount the ascent, a strange
sad silence took possession of the
street. might have been many miles
away from crowded city. The moon
looked solemnly down on tall stone gar
den walls, and on the dusky cypress
trees that topped them Ny
measured footsteps echoed sharply on
the tagged way. There was no other
sound, except, at regular intervals, the
peculiarly plaintive short cry of lit
tie chiu owl, calling to its mate. Ar
rived at the gate, l entered and
mounted long outer flight of steps,
partly covered by arcades, to the first
floor of wide, rambling, old palazzo.
A soldierly man, with little brazen
oil lamp in mis- hand, stepped out of a
doorway and looked at me.
" You are the servant of the Cap
tain, Angelo Bertani?" said I.
" Yes, Sir, [ am Gabor." was the
answer, in good Italian, but with a
strong foreign accent.
" How is the Captain?"
Not so well this evening. I fear.
signor. He has been much depressed
all day."
The old soldier gave me
scrutlnizlng glance, and, seeming
to be tolerably we'll satisfied
with his inspection, made a military
salute, and preceded me with his lamp
along stone corridor.
| experienced an inexplicable feel
ing as | walked down the echoing
passage. ! had no definite ex-
pectation; but | felt as though some
thing strange were infallibly about to
happen. Nothing at all strange did
happen. ! found Bertani lying on
sofa in his lofty vaulted room, with
shaded lamp on little table at his
back, and before him the glorious
panorama of Florence, framed by the
open window, and touched with the
broad char 'oscuro of the moonlight.
He received me more than graciously
ruitL ....-,.az=La4 &c IL. 1880. u :.