r, interrogatively.
"Me--"
"_Tu_" said she, with tender emphasis.
"Wee mounseer," said he, with utter desperation.
The Signora shook her head. "_Non capisco. Ma quelle, balordaggini ed
intormentimente, che sono si non segni manifesti d'amore_?"
"I don't understand, marm, a single word of that."
The Signora smiled. The Senator took courage again.
"The fact is this, marm," said he, firmly; "I want to get my
clothes washed somewhere. Of course you don't do it, but you can
tell me, you know. Hm?"
"_Non capisco_."
"Madame," said he, feeling confident that she would understand that
word at least, and thinking, too, that it might perhaps serve as a
key to explain any other words which he might append to it. "My
clothes--I want to get them washed--laundress--washy--soap and
water--clean 'em all up--iron 'em--hang 'em out to dry. Ha?"
While saying this he indulged in an expressive pantomine. When
alluding to his clothes he placed his hands against his chest,
when mentioning the drying of them he waved them in the air. The
landlady comprehended this. How not? When a gentleman places his
hand on his heart, what is his meaning?
"_O sottigliezza d'amore_!" murmured she. "_Che cosa cerca_," she
continued, looking up timidly but invitingly.
The Senator felt doubtful at this, and in fact a little frightened.
Again he placed his hands on his chest to indicate his clothes; he
struck that manly chest forcibly several times, looking at her all
the time. Then he wrung his hands.
[Illustration: The Senator In A Worse Fix.]
"_Ah, Signore_," said La Rocca, with a melting glance, "_non e d'uopo
di desperazione_."
"Washy, washy--"
"_Eppure, se Ella vuol sposarmi, non ce difficolta_," returned the
other, with true Italian frankness.
"Soap and water--"
"_Non ho il coraggio di dir di no_."
The Senator had his arms outstretched to indicate the hanging-out
process. Still, however, feeling doubtful if he were altogether
understood, he thought he would try another form of pantomime.
Suddenly he fell down on his knees, and began to imitate the action
of a washer-woman over her tub, washing, wringing, pounding, rubbing.
"_O gran' cielo_!" cried the Signora, her pitying heart filled with
tenderness at the sight of this noble being on his knees before her,
and, as she thought, wringing his hands in despair. "_O gran' cielo!
Egli e innamorato di me non puo dirmelo_."
Her warm heart prompted her, and she
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