Those Extraordinary Twins by Mark Twain

pair of legs! It–or they, as you please–bowed with elaborate foreign

formality, but the Coopers could not respond immediately; they were

paralyzed. At this moment there came from the rear of the group a

fervent ejaculation–“My lan’!”–followed by a crash of crockery, and the

slave-wench Nancy stood petrified and staring, with a tray of wrecked

tea-things at her feet. The incident broke the spell, and brought the

family to consciousness. The beautiful heads of the new-comer bowed

again, and one of them said with easy grace and dignity:

“I crave the honor, madam and miss, to introduce to you my brother, Count

Luigi Capello,” (the other head bowed) “and myself–Count Angelo; and at

the same time offer sincere apologies for the lateness of our coming,

which was unavoidable,” and both heads bowed again.

The poor old lady was in a whirl of amazement and confusion, but she

managed to stammer out:

“I’m sure I’m glad to make your acquaintance, sir–I mean, gentlemen.

As for the delay, it is nothing, don’t mention it. This is my daughter

Rowena, sir–gentlemen. Please step into the parlor and sit down and

have a bite and sup; you are dreadful wet and must be uncomfortable–

both of you, I mean.”

But to the old lady’s relief they courteously excused themselves, saying

it would be wrong to keep the family out of their beds longer; then each

head bowed in turn and uttered a friendly good night, and the singular

figure moved away in the wake of Rowena’s small brothers, who bore

candles, and disappeared up the stairs.

The widow tottered into the parlor and sank into a chair with a gasp,

and Rowena followed, tongue-tied and dazed. The two sat silent in the

throbbing summer heat unconscious of the million-voiced music of the

mosquitoes, unconscious of the roaring gale, the lashing and thrashing of

the rain along the windows and the roof, the white glare of the

lightning, the tumultuous booming and bellowing of the thunder; conscious

of nothing but that prodigy, that uncanny apparition that had come and

gone so suddenly–that weird strange thing that was so soft-spoken and so

gentle of manner and yet had shaken them up like an earthquake with the

shock of its gruesome aspect. At last a cold little shudder quivered

along down the widow’s meager frame and she said in a weak voice:

“Ugh, it was awful just the mere look of that phillipene!”

Rowena did not answer. Her faculties were still caked; she had not yet

found her voice. Presently the widow said, a little resentfully:

“Always been used to sleeping together–in-fact, prefer it. And I was

thinking it was to accommodate me. I thought it was very good of them,

whereas a person situated as that young man is–”

“Ma, you oughtn’t to begin by getting up a prejudice against him.

I’m sure he is good-hearted and means well. Both of his faces show it.”

“I’m not so certain about that. The one on the left–I mean the one on

it’s left–hasn’t near as good a face, in my opinion, as its brother.”

“That’s Luigi.”

“Yes, Luigi; anyway it’s the dark-skinned one; the one that was west of

his brother when they stood in the door. Up to all kinds of mischief and

disobedience when he was a boy, I’ll be bound. I lay his mother had

trouble to lay her hand on him when she wanted him. But the one on the

right is as good as gold, I can see that.”

“That’s Angelo.”

“Yes, Angelo, I reckon, though I can’t tell t’other from which by their

names, yet awhile. But it’s the right-hand one–the blond one. He has

such kind blue eyes, and curly copper hair and fresh complexion–”

“And such a noble face!–oh, it is a noble face, ma, just royal, you may

say! And beautiful deary me, how beautiful! But both are that; the dark

one’s as beautiful as–a picture. There’s no such wonderful faces and

handsome heads in this town none that even begin. And such hands,

especially Angelo’s–so shapely and–”

“Stuff, how could you tell which they belonged to?–they had gloves on.”

“Why, didn’t I see them take off their hats?”

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