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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"


"Nothing that he said offended me," she told him boldly, almost scornfully.
He flashed me a glance that was full of venom, and I saw Cosimo smile,
whilst Cavalcanti started slightly at such boldness from his meek child.
But the Duke was sufficiently master of himself to bow again.
"Then am I less aggrieved," said he, and changed the subject. "Shall we to
the bowling lawn?" And his invitation was direct to Bianca, whilst his
eyes passed over her father. Without waiting for their answer, his
question, indeed, amounting to a command, he turned sharply to my cousin.
"Your arm, Cosimo," said he, and leaning heavily upon his captain he went
down the broad granite steps, followed by the little knot of courtiers,
and, lastly, by Bianca and her father.
As for me, I turned and went indoors, and there was little of the saint
left in me in that hour. All was turmoil in my soul, turmoil and hatred
and anger. Anon to soothe me came the memory of those sweet words that
Bianca had spoken in my defence, and those words emboldened me at last to
seek her but as I had never yet dared in all the time that I had spent at
Pagliano.
I found her that evening, by chance, in the gallery over the courtyard.
She was pacing slowly, having fled thither to avoid that hateful throng of
courtiers.


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