The Duchessa smiled.
“You like it? So do I. But what the country really needs is rain.”
“Then let us hope,” said he, “that the country's real needs may remain unsatisfied.”
The Duchessa tittered.
“Think of the poor farmers,” she said reproachfully.
“It's vain to think of them,” he answered. “'T is an ascertained fact that no condition of the weather ever contents the farmers.”
The Duchessa laughed.
“Ah, well,” she consented, “then I 'll join in your hope that the fine weather may last. I—I trust,” she was so good as to add, “that you're not entirely uncomfortable at Villa Floriano?”
“I dare n't allow myself to speak of Villa Floriano,” he replied. “I should become dithyrambic. It's too adorable.”
“It has a pretty garden, and—I remember—you admired the view,” the Duchessa said. “And that old Marietta? I trust she does for you fairly well?” Her raised eyebrows expressed benevolent (or was it in some part humorous?) concern.