Night settled over the cliffs of Taormina in a magnificent silence of midnight stars and warm, sea-scented breezes. Through the tall arched French doors of Dante’s master bedchamber, the moon hung low and full over the Ionian Sea, casting a shimmering path of silver light across the dark waters seven hundred feet below. The room was illuminated only by the flickering amber glow of beeswax candles set in heavy brass…
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