She will always find me the same." "How good you are, dearest friend!" exclaimed the Marchesa, thoroughly understanding what he meant, and grateful to him for his tact, which was sometimes, indeed, of the highest order.
"It would be strange if I were not happy and satisfied," he answered, "and ready to accept gratefully the smallest favour with which it may please Donna Beatrice to honor me." He was indeed both happy and satisfied, for he saw no reason to suppose that the Granmichele fortune could now slip from his grasp.

Moreover he had considerable confidence in himself and his powers, and he thought it quite probable that the scene of the previous evening might before long be renewed with more lasting effect.

Beatrice was young and capricious; there is nothing one may count on so surely as youth and caprice.
Caprice is sure to change, but who is sure that the faith kept for ten years will not?
In youth love is sure to come some day, but when that day is past is it ever sure that he will come again?
San Miniato knew these things and many more like them, and was wise in his generation as well as a man of the world, accustomed to its ways from his childhood and nourished with the sour milk of its wisdom from his earliest youth upward.
So he quietly conveyed to the Marchesa the information that he understood Beatrice's present mood and that he would not attach more importance to it than it deserved.

They talked a little longer together, both for the present avoiding any reference to the important arrangements which must soon be discussed in connection with the marriage contract, but both taking it entirely for granted that the marriage itself was quite agreed upon and settled.
Then Beatrice returned and sat down silently by the table.
"Have you been for a little walk, my angel ?" enquired her mother.
"Yes, mamma, I have been for a little walk." "You are not tired then, after our excursion, Donna Beatrice ?" enquired San Miniato.
"Not in the least," answered the young girl, taking up a book and beginning to read.
"Beatrice!" exclaimed her mother in amazement.

"My child! What are you reading! Maupassant! Have you quite forgotten yourself ?" "I am trying to, mamma.