She talked very little, except to encourage the young man to continue.

I do not think she was brilliant, as they call it, or witty.
She was much more than that in her comprehension, in her kindness--her beautiful kindness! She spoke only once directly to me, except for the little things one must say.

"I am almost sure I have met you, Signor Ansolini." I felt myself burning up and knew that the conflagration was visible.
So frightful a blush cannot be prevented by will-power, and I felt it continuing in hot waves long after Poor Jr.

had effected salvation for me by a small joke upon my cosmopolitanism.
Little sleep visited me that night.

The darkness of my room was luminous and my closed eyes became painters, painting so radiantly with divine colours--painters of wonderful portraits of this lady.