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. ‘She knows what she’s up against. The life of a girl presented itself to her as something happy and heedless and unthinking, yet really guided and controlled by others, and going on amidst unsuspected screens and concealments. In any place her beauty would have been an uncommon thing. The carpet was a quiet drugget and not excessively worn, and the bed in the corner was covered by a white quilt.
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