196 
Don Orsino. 
[August, 
meadow, and the golden plover in sncli 
a field. Some, no doubt, will lose their 
way. Numbers uncounted will perisli 
by storm and flood; numbers more, alas, 
by human agency. As I write, with 
the sad note of a bluebird in my ear, I 
can see the sea beaches and the marshes 
lined with guns. But the army will 
push on; they will come to their desired 
haven; for tliere is a spirit in birds, 
also, “and the inspiration of the Al¬ 
mighty giveth them understanding.” 
Bradford Torrey. 
DON ORSINO. 1 
XVI. 
It was long before Orsino saw Maria 
Consuelo again, but the circumstances 
of his last meeting with her constantly 
recurred to his mind during tlie fol¬ 
lowing months. It is one of the chief 
characteristics of Rome that it seems 
to .be one of the most central cities in 
Europe during the winter, whereas in 
the summer months it appears to be 
immensely remote from the rest of the 
civilized world. From having been 
the prey of the inexpressible foreigner 
in his shooting season, it suddenly be¬ 
comes, and remains during about five 
months, tlie happy hunting-ground of 
the silent flea, the buzzing fly, and the 
insinuating mosquito. The streets are 
indeed still full of people, and long 
lines of carriages may be seen towards 
sunset in the Villa Borghesa and in the 
narrow Corso. Rome and the Romans 
are not so easily parted as London and 
London society, for instance. May 
comes, the queen of the months in the 
south. June follows. Southern blood 
rejoices in the first strong sunshine. 
July trudges in at tlie gates, sweating 
under the cloudless sky, lieavy, slow of 
foot, oppressed by the l)reath of the 
coming dog-star. Still the nights are 
cool. Still, towards sunset, the re¬ 
freshing breeze siveeps iqi from the sea 
and fills the streets. Then behind 
closely fastened blinds the glass win¬ 
dows are opened, and the weary hand 
drops the fan at last. Then men and 
women array themselves in the garments 
of civilization and sally forth, in car¬ 
riages, on foot, and in trams, accord¬ 
ing to the degrees of social importance 
which provide that in old countries the 
second class shall be made to suffer for 
the priceless treasure of a resjiectabil- 
ity which is a little higher than the 
tram, and financially not quite equal to 
the cab. Then, at that magic touch 
of the west wind the house-fly retires 
to his own peculiar Inferno, Avherever 
that may be, the mosquito and the 
gnat pause in their work of darkness 
and blood to concert fresh and more 
bloodthirsty deeds, and even the joyous 
and wicked flea tires of the war dance 
and lays down his weary head to snatch 
a hard - earned nap. July drags on, 
and terrible Anojust treads tlie burninor 
streets, bleaching the very dust upon 
the pavement, scourging the broad 
campagna with fiery lashes of heat. 
Then the white-hot sky reddens in tlie 
evening when it cools, as the white 
iron does when it is taken from the 
forge. Then, at last, all thoge who 
can escape from the condemned city 
flee for their lives to the hills, while 
those who must face the torment of 
the sun and the poison of the air turn 
jiale in their sufferings, feebly curse 
tlieir fate, and tlien grow listless^ weak, 
and irresponsible as over-driven^ gal¬ 
ley slaves, indifferent to everything, — 
work, rest, blows, food, sleej), and the 
^ Copynght, 1891 , by Macmillan & Co. 
