She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. “I’ve been following you for many years. His heir is dead, yes, and his name and title available to me. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. A nine days’ wonder is soon forgotten. “Sorry to be so terribly rude, Martin. “I gave your name. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. " With this, he mounted his steed and rode off. I worshipped her and subdued myself.
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