With your permission, I will go on in my own way. . But all that could be ascertained in the village was, that a man had ridden off a short time before in the direction of London. Her new husband had paid for a cadre of escorts back to Mantua. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. She accomplished it with the aid of the young fellow’s hand, and stepped down into the road, glancing up at the house as she did so. She ran away after she had divined that Gianfrancesco had remarried. Why was he there? why did the tempter dare to invade that sacred spot! She could not answer her own questions, but vague fearful suspicions passed through her mind.
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