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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"

For well-high half an hour his fury lasted, and it was seldom that
her voice was interposed. Once we heard her laugh, cold and cutting as a
sword's edge, and I shivered at the sound, for it was not good to hear.
At last the door was opened and he came forth. His face was inflamed, his
eyes wild and blood-injected. He paused for a moment on the threshold, but
I do not think that he noticed us at first. He looked back at her over his
shoulder, still sitting at table, the outline of her white-gowned body
sharply defined against the deep blue tapestry of the wall behind her.
"You are warned," said he. "Do you heed the warning!" And he came
forward.
Perceiving me at last where I sat, he bared his broken teeth in a snarling
smile. But it was to Busio that he spoke. "Have my mule saddled for me in
an hour," he said, and passed on and up the stairs to make his
preparations. It seemed, therefore, that she had conquered his suspicions.
I went in to offer her comfort, for she was weeping and all shaken by that
cruel encounter. But she waved me away.
"Not now, Agostino. Not now," she implored me. "Leave me to myself, my
friend."
I had not been her friend had I not obeyed her without question.


CHAPTER V
PABULUM ACHERONTIS

It was late that afternoon when Astorre Fifanti set out.


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