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Updated: July 1, 2025
I dropped on to the carved settle that stood there, old Busio standing at my elbow, more tranquil now that there was help at hand for Madonna in case of need. And through the door came the sound of his storming, and presently the crash of more broken glassware, as once more he thumped the table. For well-high half an hour his fury lasted, and it was seldom that her voice was interposed.
I dimly remember that as she backed away from me until her shoulders touched the wall, that as she stood so, all white and lovely as any snare that Satan ever devised for man's ruin, staring at me with mutely pleading eyes, I staggered forward, avoiding the sight of that dreadful huddle on the floor, over which Busio was weeping foolishly. As I stepped a sudden moisture struck my stockinged feet.
She set a finger to her lips. There fell a knock, and old Busio stood before us. "Madonna," he announced, "my Lord the Cardinal-legate is below and asks for you." I started up as if I had been stung. So! At this hour! Then Messer Fifanti's suspicions did not entirely lack for grounds. Giuliana flashed me a glance ere she made answer.
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