File:The country of The ring and the book (1913) (14597136159).jpg

Identifier: countryofringb00trev (find matches)
Title: The country of The ring and the book
Year: 1913 (1910s)
Authors: Treves, Frederick, Sir, 1853-1923
Subjects: Browning, Robert, 1812-1889
Publisher: London : Cassell
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Toronto

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one whined—That was the policy and master stroke—Deep in his throat whispered what seemed a name—1 Open to Caponsacchi ! Guido cried :Wide as a heart, opened the door at once,Showing the joyous couple and their childThe two-weeks mother, to the wolves, the wolvesTo them. According to one speaker, there never was sothorough a study of stabbing, while a third tellsvividly how Pompilia rushes here and thereLike a dove among lightnings in her brake,Falls also : Guidos, this last husbands-act,He lifts her by the long dishevelled hair,Holds her away at arms length with one hand,While the other tries if life come from the mouth—Looks out his whole hearts hate on the shut eyes,Draws a deep satisfied breath, So—dead at last ! Throws down the burthen on dead Pietros knees. Guido maintains before the Court that he approachedthe actual deed of murder with feelings of remorse,and that he struggled hard against what he felt to be aHeaven-directed duty. He thus describes the miserable 276
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99.—THE PRETURA AT CASTELNUOVO. Where Pompilia and Caponsacchi were imprisoned Guido days of Christmastide that he spent in the empty housein his brothers vineyard: I was in Rome on Christmas Eve.Festive bells—everywhere the Feast o the Babe,Joy upon earth, peace and good will to man !I am baptised. I started and let dropThe dagger. i Where is it, His promised peace ?Nine days o the Birth-Feast did I pause and prayTo enter into no temptation more.I bore the hateful house, my brothers once,Deserted—let the ghost of social joyMock and make mouths at me from empty roomAnd idle door that missed the masters step—Bore the frank wonder of incredulous eyes,As my own people watched without a word,Waited, from where they huddled round the hearthBlack like all else, that nod so slow to come—I stopped my ears even to the inner callOf the dread duty, heard only the song( Peace upon earth/ saw nothing but the faceO the Holy Infant, and the halo thereAble to cover yet another faceBehind it

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