She worried for her father in Mantua, 28 hoping that he was still alive. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. ” “You will make me horribly conceited,” he answered. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. Sebastian returned to find her blood dripping into the crucible.
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