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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 smiled darkly at my words and my sudden faltering; but I affected
not to see.
"Where is Madonna?" I asked.
"She will have returned by now from chapel," he answered.
I turned to the man-at-arms. "You will announce me," I bade him. "And
you, Rinolfo, see to these beasts and to this good fellow here. Let him
have wine and food and what he needs. I will see him again ere he sets
forth."
Rinolfo muttered that all should be done as I ordered, and I signed to the
man-at-arms to lead the way.
We went up the steps and into the cool of the great hall. There the
soldier, whose every feeling had been outraged no doubt by Rinolfo's
attitude towards his lord, ventured to express his sympathy and
indignation.
"Rinolfo is a black beast, Madonnino," he muttered.
"We are all black beasts, Eugenio," I answered heavily, and so startled him
by words and tone that he ventured upon no further speech, but led me
straight to my mother's private dining-room, opened the door and calmly
announced me.
"Madonna, here is my Lord Agostino."
I heard the gasp she uttered before I caught sight of her. She was seated
at the table's head in her great wooden chair, and Fra Gervasio was pacing
the rush-strewn floor in talk with her, his hands behind his back, his head
thrust forward.


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