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Updated: May 29, 2025
He uncovered her feet, and felt her heart, her hands, her forehead, lifting up the shining curls as he did so with a tender touch, and laying them out upon the pillow, as reverently as he would replace a relic. Cavaliere Trenta stood beside him in breathless silence. Was it life or death? Looking into Fra Pacifico's motionless face, none could tell.
Woe to the unlucky sleeper! his slumbers from that hour were numbered; she watched him as if he had committed a crime. When the marchesa, as I have said, was aroused by a knock, she sat up stiffly, and rubbed her eyes before she would say, "Enter." When she spoke the word, the door slowly opened, and Cavaliere Trenta stood before her.
There was a strange mixture of passion and of curiosity in his mobile face. If she would not tell him, could he not rend her secret from her? Trenta, seated at the opposite side of the platform, observed them as they stood side by side, half concealed by the foliage observed them with benign satisfaction. It was all as it should be; his mission would be easy.
Before he had time to pick himself up, the populace had fallen on him: in one instant they had torn away his epaulettes, his banner, and his coat, and would have torn him to bits himself, had not Giorgio Pellegrino and Trenta Capelli taken him under their protection, and giving him an arm on each side, defended him in their turn against the people.
Trenta obsequiously placed a footstool at her feet, a cushion at her back. Even the tempered light, which had been carefully prepared for her by closing the outer wooden shutters, could not conceal how sallow and worn she looked, nor the black circles that had gathered round her eyes. Her dark dress hung about her as if she had suddenly grown thin; her white hands fell listlessly at her side.
In the piazza without this church, the very centre of Lucca, the heart, as it were, whence all the veins and arteries of our municipal body flow, Castruccio was received with all the pomp of a Roman triumph. Ah! cavaliere" and the count's lustrous eyes rested on Trenta, who was devouring every word he uttered with silent delight "those were proud days for Lucca!"
"I beg pardon, count," answered the urbane Trenta, remembering Nobili's liberal politics "I mean no society. Society, as a system, has ceased to exist in Italy. But we must think of the cotillon. It is now twelve o'clock. There will be supper. Then we must soon begin. You, count, are to dance with Nera Boccarini. You came so late we were obliged to arrange it for you." Nobili colored crimson.
A rock might have been moved, but not Fra Pacifico. "Enrica shall obey me!" cried the marchesa. Her temper was rising beyond control at the idea of any opposition at such a critical moment. She had made her plan, settled it with Trenta; her plan must be carried out. "Enrica shall obey me," she repeated. "Enrica will obey me unless instigated by you, Fra Pacifico."
Trenta, knowing how deeply Marescotti's feelings were engaged in the subject of Savonarola, was too courteous to desire any further discussion. But at the same time he was determined, if possible, to hear no more of what was to him neither more nor less than blasphemy. "Do you know how long we have been up here, count?" he asked, taking out his watch. "Enrica must return.
Now the pope " Trenta did not this time attempt to correct Marescotti "the pope is theoretically of no nation, but in reality he is of all nations; and he is surrounded by a court of celibate priests, also without nation. Observe, cavaliere this absolute dominion is attained by celibates only men with no family ties no household influences."
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