And to drink there was a fragrant, well-sunned wine
of Lombardy that had been cooled in snow.
Galeotto ate enormously, Cavalcanti daintily, I but little, and Bianca
nothing. Her presence had set up such emotions in me that I had no thought
for food. But I drank deeply, and so came presently to a spurious ease
which enabled me to take my share in the talk that was toward, though when
all is said it was but a slight share, since Cavalcanti and Galeotto
discoursed of matters wherein my knowledge was not sufficient to enable me
to bear a conspicuous part.
More than once I was on the point of addressing Bianca herself, but always
courage failed me. I had ever in mind the memory she must have of me as
she had last seen me, to increase the painful diffidence which her presence
itself imposed upon me. Nor did I hear her voice more than once or twice
when she demurely answered such questions as her father set her. And
though once or twice I found her stealing a look at me, she would instantly
avert her eyes when our glances crossed.
Thus was our first meeting, and for a little time it was to be our last,
because I lacked the courage to seek her out. She had her own apartments
at Pagliano with her own maids of honour, like a princess; and the castle
garden was entirely her domain into which even her father seldom intruded.
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