She shall have little fat white hands like a healthy baby, a double chin and a short waist.

Then she will be what people call pretty." "Yes," assented Jacopo.

"That is very amusing.

But just suppose, for the sake of discussion--it is impossible, of course, but suppose it--that instead of there being only one perfectly beautiful woman in the world, whose name is Arisa, there should be two, and that the name of the other chanced to be Marietta Beroviero." Arisa raised her eyes and gazed steadily at Jacopo.
"You have seen her," she said in a tone of conviction.

"She is beautiful." "No.