Teresina, I want lemonade." In an instant Bastianello produced a decanter out of a bucket of snow and brought it aft with a glass.

The Marchesa smiled.
"You do things very well, dearest friend," she said, and moistened her lips in the cold liquid.
"Donna Beatrice has had more to do with providing for your comfort than I," answered the Count.
The Marchesa smiled lazily, sipped about a teaspoonful from the glass and handed it to her maid.
"Drink, Teresina," she said.

"It will refresh you." The girl drank eagerly.
"You see," said the Marchesa, "I can think of the comfort of others as well as of my own." San Miniato smiled politely and Beatrice laughed.

Her laughter hurt the silent sailor perched behind her, as though a glass had been broken in his face.

How could she be so gay when his heart was beating so hard for her?
He drew his breath sharply and looked out to sea, as many a heart-broken man has looked across that fair water since woman first learned that men's hearts could break.
It was a wonderful afternoon.