happened to be the extent of my knowledge of Italian. It was evident that there were not enough words to go round, to say nothing of a second helping.
The work went forward famously. Only a week later the cellar walls were standing, and I was able to step inside and look out of a window. The entire aspect of the world undergoes some subtle, psychological transformation from the moment when first you survey it out of your own window. You are no longer a supernumerary in the second row of the Soldiers’ Chorus, but the occupant of a grand tier box, and of station somewhat more exalted than that of Faust himself. I could fancy with what contentment, with what calm philosophy, I would look through that window, after the trim, green blinds, and the glass, and the dimity curtains should be in place; and said as much to the head-mason. He reminded me, with unnecessary particularity, that I would not be apt to spend much
