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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"

So let the thing be done speedily and in
secret."
I looked at her between doubt and horror.
"Why should you mistrust me?" she asked, answering my look. "I have been
frank with you. It is not you nor that white-faced ninny I would serve.
You may both go hang for me, though I loved you once, Agostino." And the
sudden tenderness of tone and smile were infinitely mocking. "No, no,
beloved, if I meddle in this at all, it is because my own interests are in
peril."
I shuddered at the cold, matter-of-fact tone in which she alluded to such
interests as those which she could have in Pier Luigi.
"Ay, shrink and cringe, sir saint," she sneered. "Having cast me off and
taken up holiness, you have the right, of course." And with that she moved
past me, and down the terrace-steps without ever turning her head to look
at me again. And that was the last I ever saw of her, as you shall find,
though little was it to have been supposed so then.
I stood hesitating, half minded to go after her and question her more
closely as to what she knew and what she did no more than surmise. But
then I reflected that it mattered little. What really mattered was that
her good advice should be acted upon without delay.
I went towards the house and in the loggia came face to face with Cosimo.


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