It is almost a fortnight now that I am domiciled in a medieval villa in the country, a mile
or two from Florence. I cannot speak the language; I am too old not to learn how, also too
busy when I am busy, and too indolent when I am not; wherefore some will imagine that
I am having a dull time of it. But it is not so. The "help" are all natives; they talk Italian
to me, I answer in English; I do not understand them, they do not understand me,
consequently no harm is done, and everybody is satisfied. In order to be just and fair, I
throw in an Italian word when I have one, and this has a good influence. I get the word
out of the morning paper. I have to use it while it is fresh, for I find that Italian words do
not keep in this climate. They fade toward night, and next morning they are gone. But it
is no matter; I get a new one out of the paper before breakfast, and thrill the domestics
with it while it lasts. I have no dictionary, and I do not want one; I can select words by
the sound, or by orthographic aspect. Many of them have French or German or English
look, and these are the ones I enslave for the day's service. That is, as a rule. Not always.
If I find a learnable phrase that has an imposing look and warbles musically along I do
not care to know the meaning of it; I pay it out to the first applicant, knowing that if I
pronounce it carefully HE will understand it, and that's enough.
Yesterday's word was AVANTI. It sounds Shakespearian, and probably means Avaunt
and quit my sight. Today I have a whole phrase: SONO DISPIACENTISSIMO. I do not
know what it means, but it seems to fit in everywhere and give satisfaction. Although as a
rule my words and phrases are good for one day and train only, I have several that stay by
me all the time, for some unknown reason, and these come very handy when I get into a
long conversation and need things to fire up with in monotonous stretches. One of the
best ones is DOV' `E IL GATTO. It nearly always produces a pleasant surprise, therefore
I save it up for places where I want to express applause or admiration. The fourth word
has a French sound, and I think the phrase means "that takes the cake."
During my first week in the deep and dreamy stillness of this woodsy and flowery place I
was without news of the outside world, and was well content without it. It has been four
weeks since I had seen a newspaper, and this lack seemed to give life a new charm and
grace, and to saturate it with a feeling verging upon actual delight. Then came a change
that was to be expected: the appetite for news began to rise again, after this invigorating
rest. I had to feed it, but I was not willing to let it make me its helpless slave again; I
determined to put it on a diet, and a strict and limited one. So I examined an Italian paper,
with the idea of feeding it on that, and on that exclusively. On that exclusively, and
without help of a dictionary. In this way I should surely be well protected against
overloading and indigestion.
A glance at the telegraphic page filled me with encouragement. There were no scare-
heads. That was good--supremely good. But there were headings--one-liners and two-
liners--and that was good too; for without these, one must do as one does with a German
