"I would be content with what I have. My mother and I between us have fifteen hundred lire a month: this will be left us after we have sold everything and paid our creditors. Fifteen hundred lire! With another name and another soul one could, to all appearance, live comfortably on this sum; and I could marry Livia Lante della Scala."
"A relation?"
"A cousin—so graceful, so sweet, and such a dear."
"Poor?"
"Even poorer than I am: not a penny—a great name, a great past, and not a pennyworth of dowry!"
"Does she love you?"
"She loves me quietly, in silence, without any hope. Ah, what a dear creature!"
He sighed deeply as he gazed below at the white, modest houses of Sils Maria amidst tall trees.
"Do you love her, Vittorio?"
"I am very fond of Livia, nothing more."