Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. “I shall be waiting for you there, and in the meantime, if you will help yourself—pray don’t look like that. “I don’t think I shall. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. Wood, carving for his friends, and pledging the carpenter, he had his hands full.
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