The air became hot and swollen with June humidity. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. 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. Into one of these he waded and rolled and rolled, despite her commands. You are my prisoner, murderer. " "No; it is only—what shall I say?—troubled. The small bed’s hospital corners had been put into disarray by Michelle’s crying fit.
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