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- Author: E L Voynich
- Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
- Year: 2017
- Pages: 292
- ISBN-10: 1544705522
- ISBN-13: 9781544705521
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 1.6 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English
- SAVE -10% with code: EXTRA
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Description
Arthur sat in the library of the theological seminary at Pisa, looking through a pile of manuscript sermons. It was a hot evening in June, and the windows stood wide open, with the shutters half closed for coolness. The Father Director, Canon Montanelli, paused a moment in his writing to glance lovingly at the black head bent over the papers. "Can't you find it, carino? Never mind; I must rewrite the passage. Possibly it has got torn up, and I have kept you all this time for nothing." Montanelli's voice was rather low, but full and resonant, with a silvery purity of tone that gave to his speech a peculiar charm. It was the voice of a born orator, rich in possible modulations. When he spoke to Arthur its note was always that of a caress. "No, Padre, I must find it; I'm sure you put it here. You will never make it the same by rewriting." Montanelli went on with his work. A sleepy cockchafer hummed drowsily outside the window, and the long, melancholy call of a fruitseller echoed down the street: "Fragola! fragola!"
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- Author: E L Voynich
- Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
- Year: 2017
- Pages: 292
- ISBN-10: 1544705522
- ISBN-13: 9781544705521
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 1.6 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English English
Arthur sat in the library of the theological seminary at Pisa, looking through a pile of manuscript sermons. It was a hot evening in June, and the windows stood wide open, with the shutters half closed for coolness. The Father Director, Canon Montanelli, paused a moment in his writing to glance lovingly at the black head bent over the papers. "Can't you find it, carino? Never mind; I must rewrite the passage. Possibly it has got torn up, and I have kept you all this time for nothing." Montanelli's voice was rather low, but full and resonant, with a silvery purity of tone that gave to his speech a peculiar charm. It was the voice of a born orator, rich in possible modulations. When he spoke to Arthur its note was always that of a caress. "No, Padre, I must find it; I'm sure you put it here. You will never make it the same by rewriting." Montanelli went on with his work. A sleepy cockchafer hummed drowsily outside the window, and the long, melancholy call of a fruitseller echoed down the street: "Fragola! fragola!"
Reviews