Her eyes had an unnatural sparkle, and ever and
anon she would smile at what was said to her in half-whispers, now by the
Duke, now by Cosimo, whilst once or twice she laughed outright. Gone was
the usual chill reserve with which she hedged herself about to distance the
hateful advances of Pier Luigi. There were moments now when she seemed
almost flattered by his vile ogling and adulatory speeches, as if she had
been one of those brazen ladies of his Court.
It wounded me sorely. I could not understand it, lacking the wit to see
that this queer mood sprang from the blow I had dealt her, and was the
outward manifestation of her own pain at the shattering of the illusions
she had harboured concerning myself.
And so I sat there moodily, gnawing my lip and scowling darkly upon Pier
Luigi and upon my cousin, who was as assiduous in his attentions as his
master, and who seemed to be receiving an even greater proportion of her
favours. One little thing there was to hearten me. Looking at the Lord of
Pagliano, who sat at the table's head, I observed that his glance was dark
as it kept watch upon his daughter--that chaste white lily that seemed of a
sudden to have assumed such wanton airs.
It was a matter that stirred me to battle, and forgotten again were my
resolves to seek Gervasio, forgotten all notion of abandoning the world for
the second time.
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