And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel. 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. There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning. Don’t say anything, she thought to herself, say nothing more, Martin.
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