Clotilde flew into a rage, crying, “How dare you lay claim to my children! I am their mother! This is a Godless house!” She accused. Any financial return was inconsiderable against the promise of this psychological treat. Gianfrancesco ran from the room, tearing at his hair. Upon this young fellow's face there were no wrinkles, only shadows, in the hollows of the cheeks and under the eyes.
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