"Perhaps that would have been best. One cannot trust any man at all. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered. 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. Yours?" The stranger hesitated. ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him. “My God!” he said again. The rest of the crowd followed suit with weak laughter. It was easy to discern Gianfrancesco’s mood.
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