He could not live their healthy life of animal spirits, in their sympathy with nature, and brotherhood with all that breathed around them.

Nature, in beast, fowl, and tree, and earth, flood, and sky, is what it was of old; but sin, care, and self-consciousness have set the human portion of the world askew; and thus the simplest character is ever the soonest to go astray.
"At any rate, Tomaso," said Kenyon, doing his best to comfort the old man, "let us hope that your young lord will still enjoy himself at vintage time.

By the aspect of the vineyard, I judge that this will be a famous year for the golden wine of Monte Beni.

As long as your grapes produce that admirable liquor, sad as you think the world, neither the Count nor his guests will quite forget to smile." "Ah, Signore," rejoined the butler with a sigh, "but he scarcely wets his lips with the sunny juice." "There is yet another hope," observed Kenyon; "the young Count may fall in love, and bring home a fair and laughing wife to chase the gloom out of yonder old frescoed saloon.

Do you think he could do a better thing, my good Tomaso ?" "Maybe not, Signore," said the sage butler, looking earnestly at him; "and, maybe, not a worse!" The sculptor fancied that the good old man had it partly in his mind to make some remark, or communicate some fact, which, on second thoughts, he resolved to keep concealed in his own breast.