How I wished I had spent
more time in Sicily! I would have liked to write a whole book about
Sicily.
Of course I might take the lovers to other countries; but I had not
planned anything of this kind, and it would require some time to work it
out. Now, however, a good idea occurred to me, which would postpone the
conclusion of the interesting portion of my work. I would have my
secretary read what she had written. This would give me time to think
out more of the story, and it is often important that an author should
know what he has done before he goes on to do more. We had arrived at a
point where the narrative could easily stop for a while; Tomaso having
gone on a fishing voyage, and the middle-aged innkeeper, whose union
with Lucilla was favored by her mother and the village priest, having
departed for Naples to assume the guardianship of two very handsome
young women, the daughters of an old friend, recently deceased.
When I communicated to my nun my desire to change her work from writing
to reading, she seemed surprised, and asked if there were not danger
that I might forget how I intended to end the story. I reassured her on
this point, and she appeared to resign herself to the situation.
"Shall I begin with the first page of the manuscript," said she, "or
read only what I have written?"
"Oh, begin at the very beginning," I said.
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