“It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. ” She shrugged her shoulders. ” “Call it what you like,” Anna answered. At that time, we were beneath the sway of Anne: we are now at the commencement of the reign of George the First. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. “Call me Annabel. “I first saw you crossing the river Arno, after a spring rain had spoiled the day for everyone except the ducks. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers. And she—’ ‘She!’ interrupted the young lady crossly.
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