Come along home, Ruth. Nuns, I mean. . All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. 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. “I regret that you should ever have proposed it,” he went on. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. Then we find out.
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