Then she raised her eyebrows
and moved her head a little as though to inquire what had taken place,
but San Miniato made her understand by a sign that he could not speak
before Beatrice.
"Beatrice, my angel," said the Marchesa, with more than usual sweetness,
"you have sat so long upon that rock that you have almost reconciled me
to Tragara. Do you not think that you could go back and sit there five
minutes longer?"
Beatrice glanced quickly at her mother and then at San Miniato and
turned away without a word, leaving the two together.
"And now, San Miniato carissimo," said the Marchesa, "sit down beside me
on that chair, and tell me what has happened, though I think I already
understand. You have spoken to Beatrice?"
"I have spoken--yes--and the result is favourable. I am the happiest of
men."
"Do you mean to say that she answered you at once?" asked the Marchesa,
affecting, as usual, to be scandalised.
"She answered me--yes, dear Marchesa--she told me that she loved me. It
only remains for me to claim the maternal blessing which you so
generously promised in advance."
Somehow it was a relief to him to return to the rather stiff and
over-formal phraseology which he always used on important occasions when
speaking to her, and which, as he well knew, flattered her desire to be
thought a very great lady.
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