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Correct semantics on opera

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vr8ce 2020-02-25 22:34:58 -06:00
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src/epub/text/the-brief-debut-of-tildy.xhtml
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<p>Will it tire you to be told again that Aileen was beautiful? Had she donned a few hundred dollars’ worth of clothes and joined the Easter parade, and had you seen her, you would have hastened to say so yourself.</p>
<p>The customers at Bogle’s were her slaves. Six tables full she could wait upon at once. They who were in a hurry restrained their impatience for the joy of merely gazing upon her swiftly moving, graceful figure. They who had finished eating ate more that they might continue in the light of her smiles. Every man there⁠—and they were mostly men⁠—tried to make his impression upon her.</p>
<p>Aileen could successfully exchange repartee against a dozen at once. And every smile that she sent forth lodged, like pellets from a scatter-gun, in as many hearts. And all this while she would be performing astounding feats with orders of pork and beans, pot roasts, ham-and, sausage-and-the-wheats, and any quantity of things on the iron and in the pan and straight up and on the side. With all this feasting and flirting and merry exchange of wit Bogle’s came mighty near being a salon, with Aileen for its Madame Récamier.</p>
<p>If the transients were entranced by the fascinating Aileen, the regulars were her adorers. There was much rivalry among many of the steady customers. Aileen could have had an engagement every evening. At least twice a week someone took her to a theatre or to a dance. One stout gentleman whom she and Tildy had privately christened “The Hog” presented her with a turquoise ring. Another one known as “Freshy,” who rode on the Traction Company’s repair wagon, was going to give her a poodle as soon as his brother got the hauling contract in the Ninth. And the man who always ate spareribs and spinach and said he was a stock broker asked her to go to “Parsifal” with him.</p>
<p>If the transients were entranced by the fascinating Aileen, the regulars were her adorers. There was much rivalry among many of the steady customers. Aileen could have had an engagement every evening. At least twice a week someone took her to a theatre or to a dance. One stout gentleman whom she and Tildy had privately christened “The Hog” presented her with a turquoise ring. Another one known as “Freshy,” who rode on the Traction Company’s repair wagon, was going to give her a poodle as soon as his brother got the hauling contract in the Ninth. And the man who always ate spareribs and spinach and said he was a stock broker asked her to go to <i epub:type="se:name.music.opera">Parsifal</i> with him.</p>
<p>“I don’t know where this place is,” said Aileen while talking it over with Tildy, “but the wedding-ring’s got to be on before I put a stitch into a travelling dress⁠—ain’t that right? Well, I guess!”</p>
<p>But, Tildy!</p>
<p>In steaming, chattering, cabbage-scented Bogle’s there was almost a heart tragedy. Tildy with the blunt nose, the hay-coloured hair, the freckled skin, the bag-o’-meal figure, had never had an admirer. Not a man followed her with his eyes when she went to and fro in the restaurant save now and then when they glared with the beast-hunger for food. None of them bantered her gaily to coquettish interchanges of wit. None of them loudly “jollied” her of mornings as they did Aileen, accusing her, when the eggs were slow in coming, of late hours in the company of envied swains. No one had ever given her a turquoise ring or invited her upon a voyage to mysterious, distant “Parsifal.”</p>

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src/epub/text/the-champion-of-the-weather.xhtml
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
<section id="the-champion-of-the-weather" epub:type="volume se:short-story">
<h2 epub:type="title">The Champion of the Weather</h2>
<p>If you should speak of the Kiowa Reservation to the average New Yorker he probably wouldn’t know whether you were referring to a new political dodge at Albany or a leitmotif from “Parsifal.” But out in the Kiowa Reservation advices have been received concerning the existence of New York.</p>
<p>If you should speak of the Kiowa Reservation to the average New Yorker he probably wouldn’t know whether you were referring to a new political dodge at Albany or a leitmotif from <i epub:type="se:name.music.opera">Parsifal</i>. But out in the Kiowa Reservation advices have been received concerning the existence of New York.</p>
<p>A party of us were on a hunting trip in the Reservation. Bud Kingsbury, our guide, philosopher, and friend, was broiling antelope steaks in camp one night. One of the party, a pinkish-haired young man in a correct hunting costume, sauntered over to the fire to light a cigarette, and remarked carelessly to Bud:</p>
<p>“Nice night!”</p>
<p>“Why, yes,” said Bud, “as nice as any night could be that ain’t received the Broadway stamp of approval.”</p>

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<p>“Have you ever fallen into the hands of the police?” asked Tommy.</p>
<p>“I said ‘burglar,’ not ‘beggar,’ ” answered the cracksman.</p>
<p>“After you finish your lunch,” said Tommy, “and experience the usual change of heart, how shall we wind up the story?”</p>
<p>“Suppose,” said the burglar, thoughtfully, “that Tony Pastor turns out earlier than usual tonight, and your father gets in from ‘Parsifal’ at 10:30. I am thoroughly repentant because you have made me think of my own little boy Bessie, and⁠—”</p>
<p>“Suppose,” said the burglar, thoughtfully, “that Tony Pastor turns out earlier than usual tonight, and your father gets in from <i epub:type="se:name.music.opera">Parsifal</i> at 10:30. I am thoroughly repentant because you have made me think of my own little boy Bessie, and⁠—”</p>
<p>“Say,” said Tommy, “haven’t you got that wrong?”</p>
<p>“Not on your coloured crayon drawings by <abbr class="name">B.</abbr> Cory Kilvert,” said the burglar. “It’s always a Bessie that I have at home, artlessly prattling to the pale-cheeked burglar’s bride. As I was saying, your father opens the front door just as I am departing with admonitions and sandwiches that you have wrapped up for me. Upon recognizing me as an old Harvard classmate he starts back in⁠—”</p>
<p>“Not in surprise?” interrupted Tommy, with wide, open eyes.</p>