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Stories from the Italian Poets: with Lives of the Writers, Volume 2 by Leigh Hunt
page 70 of 371 (18%)
He left me as little as possible by myself; and he had all the coast
thereabouts at his command, together with the few boats that ever touched
it.

Ordauro, however, did a thing at once the most bold and the most
ingenious. He gave out that he was married; and inviting my husband to
dinner, who had heard the news with transport, presented me, to his
astonished eyes, for the bride. The old man looked as if he would have
died for rage and misery.

"Horrible villain!" cried he," what is this?"

Ordauro professed astonishment in his turn.

"What!" asked he; "do you not know that the princess, your lady's sister,
is wonderfully like her, and that she has done me the honour of becoming
my wife? I invited you in order to do honour to yourself, and so bring
the good families together."

"Detestable falsehood!" cried Folderico. "Do you think I'm blind, or a
born idiot? But I'll see to this business directly; and terrible shall be
my revenge."

So saying, he flung out, and hastened, as fast as age would let him, to
the room in the tower, where he expected to find me not. But there he did
find me:--there was I, sitting as if nothing had happened, with my hand
on my cheek, and full of my old melancholy.

"God preserve me!" exclaimed he; "this is astonishing indeed! Never could
I have dreamt that one sister could be so like another! But is it so, or
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