She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. I came in by the vestry, and we will go out that way again. “It was best for me to know. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters.
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