Gianfrancesco ran from the room, tearing at his hair. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past. She had omitted that the flu had been called the Black Death and that it was a dead child that had been inside that womb, so many hundreds of years ago. The young ladies in the somewhat mixed society amongst which he moved neither satisfied his taste nor appealed in any way to his affections. She discovered him sitting upon the floor beside his open trunk. “I am going to ask for your forgiveness. The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead.
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