"and well you may, for it is full of malaria," said miriam; she went on, hinting at an intangible confession, such as persons with overburdened hearts often make to children or dumb animals, or to holes in the earth, where they think their secrets may be at once revealed and buried."those who come too near me are in danger of great mischiefs, i do assure you.take warning, therefore! it is a sad fatality that has brought you from your home among the apennines,--some rusty old castle, i suppose, with a village at its foot, and an arcadian environment of vineyards, fig- trees, and olive orchards,--a sad mischance, i say, that has transported you to my side.you have had a happy life hitherto, have you not, donatello?""o, yes," answered the young man; and, though not of a retrospective turn, he made the best effort he could to send his mind back into the past."i remember thinking it happiness to dance with the contadinas at a village feast; to taste the new, sweet wine at vintage-time, and the old, ripened wine, which our podere is famous for, in the cold winter evenings; and to devour great, luscious figs, and apricots, peaches, cherries, and melons.i was often happy in the woods, too, with hounds and horses, and very happy in watching all sorts, of creatures and birds that haunt the leafy solitudes. but never half so happy as now!""in these delightful groves?"she asked.
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