"I am sure it is not a week ago that I saw it. You do not
mean to tell me that there are two moons, and that yours is different
from mine!"
"Very nearly. This at least I say. When the moon is full we can see it
rise from Tragara, and we can not see it from this place."
"How inexplicable nature is!" exclaimed the Marchesa fanning herself
lazily. "I will not try to understand the moon any more. It tires me. A
lemonade, San Miniato--ring for a lemonade. I am utterly exhausted."
"Shall I ask Donna Beatrice's opinion about Tragara?" inquired San
Miniato rising.
"Oh yes! Anything--only do not argue with me. I cannot bear it. I
suppose you will put me into that terrible boat and make me sit in it
for hours and hours, until all my bones are broken, and then you will
give me cold macaroni and dry bread and warm wine and water, and the
sailors will eat garlic, and it will be insufferable and you will call
it divine. And of course Beatrice will be so wretched that she will not
listen to a word you say, and will certainly refuse you without
hesitation. A lemonade, San Miniato, for the love of heaven! My throat
is parched with this talking.
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