Alpha Book

The old
prince stood before the fire in the state drawing-room, rubbing his
hands and shaking his head. Giovanni and Corona sat on opposite sides of
the fireplace, looking at each other and somewhat inclined to laugh.
Orsino was intently studying a piece of historical tapestry which had
never interested him before.
The silence lasted some time. Then old Saracinesca raised his head and
gave vent to his feelings, with all his old energy.
"What a museum!" he exclaimed. "I would not have believed that I should
live to dine in my own house with a party of stranded figure-heads, set
up in rows around my table! The paint is all worn off and the brains are
all worn out and there is nothing left but a cracked old block of wood
with a ribbon around its neck. You will be just like them, Giovanni, in
a few years, for you will be just like me--we all turn into the same
shape at seventy, and if we live a dozen years longer it is because
Providence designs to make us an awful example to the young."
"I hope you do not call yourself a figure-head," said Giovanni.


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