’ She edged sideways a little more, her eyes on the pistol in his hand. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. She ran away after she had divined that Gianfrancesco had remarried. ‘You see, unlike you, mademoiselle, your cavalier here would not wish to be arrested. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. Her back stiffened. She come home within a few months of the wedding. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. “You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging.
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