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Dionea, seated listless on the sands, leaned over the sea and took some of its water in the hollow of her hand. "Here," she said to the Lena of Sor Tullio, "fill your bottle with this and give it to drink to Tommasino the Rosebud." Then she set to singing: "Love is salt, like sea-water I drink and I die of thirst.... Water! water! Yet the more I drink, the more I burn.
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