“She’s sensitive soul, far too sensitive to be married to an ass like Gianfrancesco. " Meanwhile, the party at the table continued drinking and chatting as merrily as before. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. She must kill this man, or kill herself. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him. Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home.
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