Bravo, Ruggiero!"
His eyes met hers and gleamed rather fiercely for an instant.
"And how about charm, Ruggiero?" asked Beatrice mischievously.
"I do not speak French, Excellency," he answered.
"You should learn, because charm is a word one cannot say in Italian. I
do not know how to say it in our language."
"Let me talk about flowers to him," said San Miniato. "I will make him
understand. Which do you like better, Ruggiero, camelias or violets?"
"The camelia is a more lordly flower, Excellency, but for me I like the
violets."
"Why?"
"Who knows? They make one think of so many things, Excellency. One would
tire of camelias, but one would never be tired of violets. They have
something--who knows?"
"That is it, Ruggiero," said San Miniato, delighted with the result of
his experiment. "And charm is the same thing in a woman. One is never
tired of it, and yet it is not honesty, nor beauty, nor economy."
"I understand, Excellency--e la femmina--it is the womanly."
"Bravo, Ruggiero!" exclaimed Beatrice again. "You are a man of heart.
And if you found a woman who was honest and beautiful and economical and
'femmina,' as you say, would you love her?"
"Yes, Excellency, very much," answered Ruggiero.
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