was　molto　vecchio—would　in　fact　be　eighty　in　the　following　year。　He　was　the　last　of　his　family；　the　waiter　added—they　had　once　been　great　and　rich　people—but　he　had　no　descendants；　in　fact　the　waiter　mentioned　with　placency；　as　if　it　were　a　story　on　which　the　locality3　prided　itself；　that　the　Conte　had　been　unfortunate　in　love；　and　had　never　married。書包　網　。　想看書來

玫　瑰（3）

The　old　gentleman；　however；　seemed　cheerful　enough；　and　it　was　plain　that　he　took　an　interest　in　the　strangers；　and　wished　to　make　their　acquaintance。　This　was　soon　effected　by　the　friendly　waiter；　and　after　a　little　talk　the　old　man　invited　them　to　visit　his　villa　and　garden　which　were　just　outside　the　walls　of　the　town。　So　the　next　afternoon；　when　the　sun　began　to　descend；　and　they　saw　in　glimpses　through　doorways　and　windows；　blue　shadows　beginning　to　spread　over　the　brown　mountains；　they　went　to　pay　their　visit。　It　was　not　much　of　a　place；　a　small；　modernized；　stucco　villa4；　with　a　hot　pebbly　garden；　and　in　it　a　stone　basin　with　torpid　gold　fish；　and　a　statue　of　Diana　and　her　hounds　against　the　wall。　But　what　gave　a　glory　to　it　was　a　gigantic　rose…tree　which　clambered　over　the　house；　almost　smothering　the　windows；　and　filling　the　air　with　the　perfume　of　its　sweetness。　Yet；　it　was　a　fine　rose；　the　Conte　said　proudly　when　they　praised　it；　and　he　would　tell　the　Signora　about　it。　And　as　they　sat　there；　drinking　the　wine　he　offered　them；　he　alluded　with　the　cheerful　indifference　of　old　age　to　his　lo