I should think
none the worse of you if they were all true."
"You are charming, dearest Marchesa. I kiss your generous hand! As a
matter of fact, I only told Donna Beatrice--may I call her Beatrice to
you now, as I have long called her in my heart? I only told her that I
had been unhappy, that I had loved twice--once a woman who is dead, once
another who has long ago forgotten me. That was all. Was it so very bad?
Her heart was softened--she is so gentle! And then I told her that a
greater and stronger passion than those now filled my present life, and
last of all I told her that I loved her."
"And she returned the compliment immediately?" asked the Marchesa,
slowly selecting a sugared chestnut from the plate beside her, turning
it round, examining it and at last putting it into her mouth.
"How lightly you speak of what concerns life and death!" sighed San
Miniato. "No--Beatrice did not answer immediately. I said much more--far
more than I can remember. How can you ask me to repeat word for word the
unpremeditated outpourings of a happy passion? The flood has swept by,
leaving deep traces--but who can remember where the eddies and rapids
were?"
"You are very poetical, caro mio.
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