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. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of
cities, reasserts itself. “He is one of
our guests—perhaps I should say boarders here, but he seldom returns before
dinner-time. My very sentences stumble and give way. “Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. He remembered that, before he
attempted to dislodge the stone, he had placed the child in a cavity of the pier,
which the granite mass had been intended to fill. Shouting to his companion, even as they passed by
where I hid myself, he called out that he thought to find you at the convent. Her
breath came fast in little sobbing pants. You understand that term?”
Ann Veronica smiled faintly.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTUuMjE0Ljk2IC0gMDUtMDctMjAyNCAwMTozNzowNCAtIDQwNjg1NzY0NA==
This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 02-07-2024 18:33:25