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. Unobserved, she knelt and kissed the threshold: for she knew what kisses were now. I don’t care. They were silent and no longer observant, being more or less exhausted by the tedious action of the chairs. "You poor child!" said Prudence.
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