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. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there. “She means to go. By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly. "My mother is avenged. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts.
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