She glanced at him. They went to the gate and stopped there, gabbed with their men, and didn’t even dismount. Everything seemed designed to unhinge the mind and make the cat wretched. . . ‘It is the life I know. He looked distant, irritated. 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. She is a year or so older than I am, and she is, well, of a very serene and proud and dignified temperament.
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