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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"

The penance for which I
have cried out so long is imposed at last. It is as just as it is cruelly
apt."
I came slowly back to the table, and stood facing her across it. She
looking up at me with very piteous eyes.
"Bianca, I must go hence," I said. "That, too, is clear."
Her lips parted; her eyes dilated; her face, if anything, grew paler.
"0, no, no!" she cried piteously.
"It must be," I said. "How can I remain? Cosimo may appeal for justice
against me, claiming that I hold his wife in duress--and justice will be
done."
"But can you not resist? Pagliano is strong and well­manned. The Black
Bands are very faithful men, and they will stand by you to the end."
"And the world?" I cried. "What will the world say of you? It is you
yourself have made me see it. Shall your name be dragged in the foul mire
of scandal? The wife of Cosimo d'Anguissola a runagate with her husband's
cousin? Shall the world say that?"
She moaned, and covered her face with her hands. Then she controlled
herself again, and looked at me almost fiercely.
"Do you care so much for what men say?"
"I am thinking of you."
"Then think of me to better purpose, my Agostino. Consider that we are
confronted by two evils, and that the choice of the lesser is forced upon
us.


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