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Sabatini, Rafael, 1875-1950

"The Strolling Saint; being the confessions of the high and mighty Agostino D'Anguissola, tyrant of Mondolfo and Lord of Carmina in the state of Piacenza"

He stood there now in his untidy gown of
black, and there was a leer of mockery on his long, white face. Slowly he
put a lean arm between us, and took the sheet in his bony claw.
He peered at it very closely, being without glasses, and screwed his eyes
up until they all but disappeared.
Thus he stood, and slowly read, whilst I looked on a trifle uneasy, and
Giuliana's face wore an odd look of fear, her bosom heaving unsteadily in
its russet sheath.
He sniffed contemptuously when he had read, and looked at me.
"Have I not bidden you leave the vulgarities of dialect to the vulgar?"
quoth he. "Is there not enough written for you in Latin, that you must be
wasting your time and perverting your senses with such poor illiterate
gibberish as this? And what is it that you have there?" He took the book.
"Panormitano!" he roared. "Now, there's a fitting author for a saint in
embryo! There's a fine preparation for the cloister!"
He turned to Giuliana. He put forward his hand and touched her bare
shoulder with his hideous forefinger. She cringed under the touch as if it
were barbed.
"There is not the need that you should render yourself his preceptress," he
said, with his deadly smile.
"I do not," she replied indignantly. "Agostino has a taste for letters,
and.


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