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Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864

"Passages from the French and Italian Notebooks, Complete"

She welcomed us, however, with the greatest cordiality and
lady-like simplicity, making no allusion to the humbleness of her
environment (and making us also lose sight of it, by the absence of all
apology) any more than if she were receiving us in a palace. There is
not a better bred woman; and yet one does not think whether she has any
breeding or no. Her little bit of a round table was already spread for
us with her blue earthenware teacups; and after she had got through an
interview with the Swedish Minister, and dismissed him with a hearty
pressure of his hand between both her own, she gave us our tea, and some
bread, and a mouthful of cake. Meanwhile, as the day declined, there had
been the most beautiful view over the campagna, out of one of her
windows; and, from the other, looking towards St. Peter's, the broad
gleam of a mildly glorious sunset; not so pompous and magnificent as many
that I have seen in America, but softer and sweeter in all its changes.
As its lovely hues died slowly away, the half-moon shone out brighter and
brighter; for there was not a cloud in the sky, and it seemed like the
moonlight of my younger days.


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