Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1895-02-28
FOREVER.
By iona Gale.

or bells. MOI one or two, as Ou festive
days, but hundreds it seemed, chimin
out softly or changing away like mao
"NOw, then!" | thought, what is it
st. GATHERINGS day? No, for that i
past; and it is not yet time for th'
Easter, l think" Just then Brun'
came bounding up the stairs an
whistling along the passage; so l callet
to him and he came in, his round, ros!
face more smiling than usual. "Ec
cole!" he cried. 'What are you doing
here, Guido? Be up and out with The
whole worldr
"But why?" 1 asked him. "An(
what are all the bells ringing for this
morning, caro- milo"
"Eccole.' he cried again. "Have yor
beer asleep the past week? Today is
Christmas day!'
christmas day." l repeated, stu.
pidly.
eyes" he said, land l must be off
directly to go with the little Tessa tic
the church. Get up, lazy one!!'
And then he ran out, whistling again,
and I lay staring at the blue and
white ceiling and trying to understand
what he had said.
Today, then, was Christmas! SO yes
terday must have been my birthday;
and | had forgotten both. All, well!
holidays are for the young, and l am
old; it is eighty years ago yesterday
)ince I saw my first birthday.
At any rate it is as well to be up on
Christmas as on any other day; so in a
little while I had my breakfast brought
up to me. And then / dressed myself
and sat down in the wide south win
dow and looked down on the crowd
of passers-by, dressed in holiday at
tire, and the little mules standing with
their panniers in the market place.
All at once a queer idea took posses
sion Of me, and I could not argue my
self out of listening to it. l had been
going over, almost unconSciOuSly, the
thing that | think of always by day
and dream by night, and l remembered
that I used to write little stories for
Carlo sometimes. So 1 thought 1
would like to tell you, if 1 could, of
this wonderful part of my life, 20 you
will not think | am mad, as most of
the people here in Florence do. Yet
if you two do not believe me, and
when you have read what l shall
write, you smile a little and say: ut
Is so: Guido must be mad" why, l
shall not mind much, after all, for that
Is all | have heard for nearly fifty
years from everyone to whom I have
told it.
First, then, my name is Guido Dona-
tello Ferrara, and the time Of which I
am going to tell you was fifty years
ago this very week. That was when
1t ended, that is; for it all began long
before.
Now, If you have ever heard that
sometimes | sing a little, or that I used
to, you will say: "Why do you not
tell us of your triumphs on the stage
of the things that happened in your
public l!fe?" That is the first thing
people care to hear about anyone who
has been great even a little-as | vas
while if | were to tell you those things
alone / should be giving you events;
and as it is / I'm going to tell you a
little of my life.
Carlotta Verniti-that is the name l
think of always-it is she of whom I
shall tell you. She was barely 20
when | knew her first and ah! l can
not tell you how beautiful! but | am
more fortunate than you nOw, for I
can see her picture in my mind al
ways.
Her father was a poor artist-poor
financially, but rich, for he had her.
Her mother was dead, and l was a
penniless boy, yet far better off than
when, six years before. l had been
fortunate enough ito be sent to the
market place with my masters two
little mules carrying the milk l was
to sell in his place after that. The
work was distasteful, for was there
not a rehearsal for an opera that
morning. where / lopged to be listen
ing at the foot of the stairs?
/ was thinking this over angrily as l
drove the little beasts along the road,
and / broke out suddenly into n of
the church pieces l knew, and sang it
in a way seldom heard, for l was put
ting all my anger into it. A church
piece, too! So | never heard the
sound of wheels behind till turning, as
| heard some one call to me when l
had done, | saw a grand carriage be-
side me. and some one leaning out and
speaking to me! My heart gave a
great bound and then stood still for |
thought it was the ~Gonfaloniere, who
would reprove me for making so much
noise.
what is your name, my lad?" he
asked, and he smiled just a little,
which surprised me.
"Guido, senior" I stammered, "Guido
Ferara."
"Come to me tomorrow" he said
briefly, "at the Villa Franco. Tomor-
row at noon"
Then he drove on swiftly, and not
until the carriage had almost disap-
reared did | remember that it was
Signore Arleigh, the wealthy English
man who had rented the Villa Franco
for the summer. What could he want
of me?
So the next day l put on my patched
coat and washed my face, and went
to find out The villa was surrounded
by sloping vine yards and olive gar
dens and was itself to me almost a
palace.
| found the signore lying in a ham
mock on the wide south porch. He
lay, | remember, with one hand under
tito hnoI ttun Srrrn,S - ~ = othn. Mold