. Still, my tutor was a highly educated scholar—my father. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. Everything seemed designed to unhinge the mind and make the cat wretched. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son.
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