The Torrents Of Spring

‘Your return,’ moaned Emil – and his voice quivered and broke, ‘but if
you’re – ‘
‘Emil!’ Sanin interrupted – and he pointed to the coachman, ‘do control
yourself! Emil, please, go home! Listen to me, my dear! You say you
love me. Well, I beg you!’ He held out his hand to him. Emil bent forward,
sobbed, pressed it to his lips, and darting away from the road, ran
back towards Frankfort across country.
‘A noble heart too,’ muttered Pantaleone; but Sanin glanced severely at
him… . The old man shrank into the corner of the carriage. He was conscious
of his fault; and moreover, he felt more and more bewildered
every instant; could it really be he who was acting as second, who had
got horses, and had made all arrangements, and had left his peaceful
abode at six o’clock? Besides, his legs were stiff and aching.
Sanin thought it as well to cheer him up, and he chanced on the very
thing, he hit on the right word.
‘Where is your old spirit, Signor Cippatola? Where is il antico valor?’
Signor Cippatola drew himself up and scowled ‘Il antico valor?’ he
boomed in a bass voice. ‘Non è ancora spento (it’s not all lost yet), il antico
valor!’
He put himself in a dignified attitude, began talking of his career, of
the opera, of the great tenor Garcia – and arrived at Hanau a hero.
After all, if you think of it, nothing is stronger in the world … and
weaker – than a word!
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