Ruggiero began to puzzle his brains, asking himself what this foreign virtue could be which his master estimated so highly.

He also thought it very strange that Beatrice should have said of herself that she was pretty, and still stranger that San Miniato should not have said it.
"Is that all ?" asked Beatrice.

"I need not have been in such a hurry to extract your compliments from you." "If you had understood what I said," answered San Miniato unmoved, "you would see that no man could say more of a woman." "Kind and charming! It is not much," laughed the young girl.

"Unless you mean much more than you say--and I asked you to be indiscreet!" "Kind hearts are rare enough in this world, Donna Beatrice, and as for charm--" "What is charm ?" "It is what the violet has, and the camelia has not--" "Heavens! Are you going to sigh to me in the language of flowers ?" "Beatrice! Beatrice!" cried the Marchesa, with the same affectation of horror as before.
"Dear mamma, are you uncomfortable?
Oh no! I see now.

You are horrified.
Have I said anything dreadful ?" she asked, turning to San Miniato.
"Anything dreadful?
What an idea! Really, Marchesa carissima, I was just beginning to explain to Donna Beatrice what charm is, when you cut me short.