Anthony nodded, with satisfaction.
"Please go on," he urged. "I have been longing to hear more about
Sampaolo."
"Oh?" said Susanna, looking sceptical. "I feared I had wearied you inexcusably with Sampaolo."
"Every syllable you pronounced," vowed he, "was of palpitating interest, and you broke off at the most palpitating moment. You were on the point of telling me how, from an Island of the Blessed, Sampaolo came to be an Island of the Distressed—when we were interrupted by a skylark."
"That would be a terribly long story," Susanna premonished him, shaking her head.
"I adore terribly long stories," he declared. "And have we not before us the whole of future time?"
"Sampaolo came to be an Island of the Distressed," said she, "because, some half-century ago, the Sampaolesi got infected with an idea that was then a kind of epidemic—the idea of Italian unity. So they had a revolution, overthrew their legitimate sovereign, gave up their Independence, and united themselves to the 'unholy and unhappy State' which has since assumed the name of the Kingdom of Italy."
"That is not a terribly long story," Anthony complained. "I 'm afraid you are suppressing some of the details."
"Yes," she at once acknowledged, "I daresay I 'm suppressing a good many of the details."
"That's not ingenuous," said he, "nor—nor kind."