What a place of torture this world is! How right we are to try and get a comfortable stall in the next! Go away, San Miniato.

It is quite useless." But San Miniato knew what he was doing.

With gentle strength he made her rise from her seat and placed her in the chair.

The porters lifted their burden, settled the straps upon their shoulders, the man in front glanced back at the man behind, both nodded and marched away.
"This is too awful!" sighed the Marchesa, as she was carried out of the door of the sitting room.

"How can you have the heart, dearest friend! An invalid like me! And I was supremely comfortable where I was." But at this point Beatrice appeared and joined the procession, radiant, fresh as a fragrant wood-flower, full of life as a young bird.