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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"


"The foul suspicion--yes," she answered, her eyes downcast, her cheeks
faintly tinted. And then, quite suddenly, she moved forward. "Come," she
bade me. "You are being foolish."
"I shall be mad," said I, "ere I have done with this." And I fell into
step again beside her. "If I could not avenge you there, I can avenge you
here." And I pointed to the house. "I can smite this rumour at its
foulest point."
Her hand fell on my arm. "What would you do?" she cried.
"Bid your husband retract and sue to you for pardon, or else tear out his
lying throat," I answered, for I was in a great rage by now.
She stiffened suddenly. "You go too fast, Messer Agostino," said she.
"And you are over-eager to enter into that which does not concern you. I
do not know that I have given you the right to demand of my husband reason
of the manner in which he deals with me. It is a thing that touches only
my husband and myself."
I was abashed; I was humiliated; I was nigh to tears. I choked it all
down, and I strode on beside her, my rage smouldering within me. But it
was flaring up again by the time we reached the house with no more words
spoken between us. She went to her room without another glance at me, and
I repaired straight in quest of Fifanti.
I found him in the library.


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