How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. The man who came to our rooms, you know, that night was his friend. “Do you believe me now?” She asked. ” He said, his voice tinged with worry. The estates must, ere long, revert to Sir Rowland.
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