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There are no Romans chatting outside about how wonderful the grilled calamari were, no hugging friends goodbye before they get in their cars, shouting, “Buona notte! Buona notte!”

Buona notte, vermouth and Campari.

Meanwhile, the little Poet had fetched her shawl, and led her away, humming, "Buona notte,—buona sera!" as he went, in that half-caressing, half-quizzing way he could assume so jauntily.

Mara shouted "good-night—buona notte!" in her musical voice, and it expressed her happiness, and massaro Neri's son did not see fit to leave her while massaro Agrippino and gn� Lia were disputing about the opening of the house door.

Shelley’s shrill laugh—I heard it still—rang in my ears, with Williams’ friendly hail, the general buona notte of all the joyous party, and the earnest entreaty to me to return as soon as possible, and not to forget the commissions they had severally given me.