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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"


"How, sir? What words are these?"
There, very magnificent in his suit of ivory velvet, stood the Duke. He
was leaning heavily upon his cane, and his face was more blotched than
ever, the sunken eyes more sunken.
"Are you seeking to quarrel with the Lord of Mondolfo?" quoth he, and I saw
by his smile that he used my cousin's title as a taunt.
Behind him was Cavalcanti with Bianca leaning upon his arm just as I had
seen her that day when she came with him to Monte Orsaro, save that now
there was a look as of fear in the blue depths of her eyes. A little on
one side there was a group composed of three of the Duke's gentlemen with
Giuliana and another of the ladies, and Giuliana was watching us with half-
veiled eyes.
"My lord," I answered, very stiff and erect, and giving him back look for
look, something perhaps of the loathing with which he inspired me imprinted
on my face, "my lord, you give yourself idle alarms. Ser Cosimo is too
cautious to embroil himself."
He limped toward me; leaning heavily upon his stick, and it pleased me that
of a good height though he was, he was forced to look up into my face.
"There is too much bad Anguissola blood in you," he said. "Be careful lest
out of our solicitude for you, we should find it well to let our leech
attend you.


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