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. My arm's nearly well again. Go and prepare for our departure. What was it she had expected? Surely her moods were getting a little out of hand. She began to tremble violently. " Some order. I have neither father, mother, brother, sister, nor husband—I have only him.
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