Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. The pieces fell to the ground in a little white shower. " "You believe—you know it," replied Jonathan, fixing one of his sternest and most searching glances upon him. I did not know you spoke Kanaka," he broke off.
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