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224 massive plaits sadly wanted Minora's little mirror. Pachetti received her with a most obsequious bow, and gave her the arm-chair; Caterina stared at her without speaking; down they sat to breakfast.

Beatrice shuddered at the fried fish, swimming in oil, which was placed before her, and gladly filled a cup of water, of which, with a piece of bread, she commenced her meal. "Shame good food should be wasted!" muttered Signora Pachetti. Her husband offered some of the light wine to mix with the water. "I suppose I am not to be helped to-day: well, well, a man's wife is always the last person he thinks of," was the running accompaniment of his agreeable helpmate. "I believe, Signor Pachetti," said Beatrice, "you have received a packet of much consequence from my father; its bearer"—for her life she could not have pronounced the name. "Yes, yes, quite true—by a young English nobleman." "Do you," asked she, in a low and hesitating voice, "know whether he is in Naples?" "Naples!—one would have thought our beautiful city had been Palermo (good enough for the Sicilians!), he was in such haste to leave