This is what I last
wrote," and she read: "'Tomaso and the pretty Lucilla now seated
themselves on the rock, by a little spring. He was trying to look into
her lovely blue eyes, which were slightly turned away from him and
veiled by their long lashes. There was something he must say to her, and
he felt he could wait no longer. Gently he took the little hand which
lay nearest him, and'--There is where I stopped," she said; and then,
her face still bright, but with the smile succeeded by an air of earnest
consideration, she asked, "Do you object to suggestions?"
"Not at all," said I; "when they are to the point, they help me."
"Well, then," she said, "I wouldn't have her eyes blue. Italian girls
nearly always have black or brown eyes. It is hard to think of this girl
as a blonde."
"Oh, but her eyes are blue," I said; "it would not do at all to have
them anything else. Some Italian girls are that way. At any rate, I
couldn't alter her in my mind."
"Perhaps not," she replied, "but in thinking about her she always seems
to me to have black eyes; however, that is a matter of no importance,
and I am ready to go on."
Thus, on matters strictly connected with business, my nun and I
conversed, and then we went on with our work.
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