"What a ridiculous question!" exclaimed Beatrice, laughing again.
"Why ridiculous?"
"Because you ought to know the answer well enough. Imagine comparing the moon with Chinese lanterns!"
"Your mother prefers the latter."
"Oh, mamma—of course! She is so practical. She would prefer carriage lamps on the trees—gas if possible! When are we going to Tragara? Where is it? Which boat shall we take? Oh, it is too delightful! Can we not go to-night?"
"We can do anything which Donna Beatrice likes," answered San Miniato. "But if you will listen to me, I will explain why to-morrow would be better. In the first place, we have dined once this evening, so that we could not dine again."
"We could call it supper," suggested Beatrice.
"Of course we could, if we could eat it at all. But it is also ten o'clock, and we could not get to Tragara before one or two in the morning. Lastly, your mother would not go."
"Will she go to-morrow?" asked Beatrice with sudden anxiety. "Have you asked her?"
"She will go," answered San Miniato confidently. "We must make her comfortable. That is the principal thing."