‘That’s better,’ said Gerald, and let her go. He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. It was the girl. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. But I will not believe you. “There is no time for that. The doctor said you wrote. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. And then she came out into the street, sure only of one thing—that she could not return directly to her lodgings. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced.
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