She confided in me a little in those days, but ever with a most
saintly resignation. She had been sold into wedlock, she admitted, with a
man who might have been her father, and she confessed to finding her lot a
cruel one; but confessed it with the air of one who intends none the less
to bear her cross with fortitude.
And then, one day, I did a very foolish thing. We had been reading
together, she and I, as was become our custom. She had fetched me a volume
of the lascivious verse of Panormitano, and we sat side by side on the
marble seat in the garden what time I read to her, her shoulder touching
mine, the fragrance of her all about me.
She wore, I remember, a clinging gown of russet silk, which did rare
justice to the splendid beauty of her, and her heavy ruddy hair was
confined in a golden net that was set with gems--a gift from my Lord
Gambara. Concerning this same gift words had passed but yesterday between
Giuliana and her husband; and I deemed the doctor's anger to be the fruit
of a base and unworthy mind.
I read, curiously enthralled--though whether by the beauty of the lines or
the beauty of the woman there beside me I could not then have told you
Presently she checked me. "Leave now Panormitano," she said. "Here is
something else upon which you shall give me your judgment.
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