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. It’s the public entrance. It seemed older than Rome, and the stone covering it gave resistance. Amid this varied throng,—varied in appearance, but alike in character,—one object alone, we have said, rivetted Mrs. . Don’t try to shield anybody or hide anything.
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