She was alarmed at how little her husband Gianfrancesco packed for the trip, leaving behind his best scarlet and black lucco, which he wore for every business and political meeting. ’ And with that he went off to the City, stern and silent, leaving his bacon on his plate—a great slice of bacon hardly touched. Miss Mary to the life, I said, and so she is. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project.
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