...I really want a cup of coffee, the meal isn't over until I drink one. What sunshine today, the cicadas seem to have gone mad. I would like to use the fan but I get hot just at the idea of spending the afternoon fanning myself. Luckily here, under the pergola, there is nice shade. It's a good thing I wore this light-coloured dress. The seamstress was really good, quick and honest with her prices. I must also recommend her to Brigida, she keeps going to Signora Bice in Borgo Pinti but often the dresses fall off badly, she doesn't seem as good as she says or maybe she has too many clients and the workmanship suffers.
Bettina quick with that coffeepot, let me drink that delicious, sour nectar, I feel all sluggish. Sure, I could stay in the lounge, but the smell of the cigar makes me sick to my stomach and Filippo, heaven forbid, has to smoke his Tuscan after lunch. Everyone has their vices! But look at her there Teresa, my poor sister, always dressed in black, sad and melancholic, she looks like a widow. She didn't say a word at the table for the whole meal. She is always languid and thinks about her Ugo the professor, handsome as can be, round glasses, sweaty hands. You can tell she's in love and he's been trying to woo her for months, even little Corinna has realised by now that she's not exactly a top. Poor little girl, with her little arms and long little legs.
I'll have to come up with something. Next time Ugo comes over for lunch I have to leave them alone here, under the pergola, otherwise; shy him, shy her, they'll never get engaged. Mamma what heat, I dread to think in the city! Florence these days must be as sultry as one of Dante's circles, thank the Lord the air turns a little here and then the countryside is really beautiful in this season. Bettina, come on, the coffee! How slow this child is...
- The work: Silvestro Lega, The Pergola, Pinacoteca dell'Accademia di Brera, Milan
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