Yes--and a light--and now the least drop of champagne.

I will drink your health." "And I both yours and Beatrice's," answered San Miniato, filling his own glass.
"You may put Beatrice first, since she is yours." "But without you there would be no Beatrice, gentilissima," said the Count gallantly, when he had emptied his glass.
"That is true, and pretty besides.

And so," continued the Marchesa in a tone of languid reflection, "you have actually been making love to my daughter, beyond my hearing, alone on the rocks--and I gave you my permission, and now you are engaged to be married! It is too extraordinary to be believed.

That was not the way I was married.

There was more formality in those days." Indeed, she could not imagine the deceased Granmichele throwing himself upon his knees at her feet, even upon the softest of carpets.
"Then I thank the fates that those days are over!" returned San Miniato.
"Perhaps I should, too.