But it was human nature, according to Ruggiero's simple view, and of course Beatrice felt like other human beings in this matter and all the principal affairs of life.

He had made up his mind, and he never repeated the words he had spoken to himself.

He was a simple man, and he puffed at his stump of a black cigar and strolled down to the boat to find out whether the Cripple and the Son of the Fool had spliced that old spare mooring-rope which had done duty last night and had been found chafed this morning.
Meanwhile the human nature on which Ruggiero counted so naturally and confidently was going through a rather strange phase of development in the upper regions where the Marchesa's terrace was situated.
Beatrice walked slowly back under the trees.

Ruggiero's quaint talk had amused her and had momentarily diverted the current of her thoughts.

But the moment she left him, her mind reverted to her immediate trouble, and she felt a little stab of pain at the heart which was new to her.