“The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. There was going to be no quarter between these two. ’ ‘Perfectly correct, my boy. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening.
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