The Master of Verona
“After confession, Pietro had struggled back to the room, trying twice to run, falling both times. Poco, under strict instructions from their father, was now extravagant in his compliments. "Really, no one deserves it more. It's the least he can do, and really about time! It's not like he's been busy. I wonder what took him so long –" "Shut up, Poco." Pietro hurried over to his uniform for the ceremony and dressed rapidly.
Poco examined his brother's new farsetto with great interest. "The Capita...no knows his fabrics." Lifting a fine pair of knee breeches, he added, "And he's considerate — he knows about your new aversion to hose. And that hat! Look at that feather! It's perfect. Daring, but not foppish." Dante was beginning to laugh. Pietro said, "Seriously, Poco, I mean it, shut up." But his little brother was on a roll. The purple of the doublet was a subject of particular eloquence. "This is a Tyrian dye — you know, the sign of senators and emperors. It's not the purple of violets, but more a plum colour.MoreLess
Poco examined his brother's new farsetto with great interest. "The Capita...no knows his fabrics." Lifting a fine pair of knee breeches, he added, "And he's considerate — he knows about your new aversion to hose. And that hat! Look at that feather! It's perfect. Daring, but not foppish." Dante was beginning to laugh. Pietro said, "Seriously, Poco, I mean it, shut up." But his little brother was on a roll. The purple of the doublet was a subject of particular eloquence. "This is a Tyrian dye — you know, the sign of senators and emperors. It's not the purple of violets, but more a plum colour.MoreLess
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