Gerald doubted there would be many eager suitors, even assuming the comtesse was keen to marry off her daughter to a foreign protestant. " Sister Prudence looked at Sister Angelina, who understood what was expected of her. ’ ‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was forestalled. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. She stole her glances sideways like the rest of the women. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. Her features are the same, yet the change has written its mark into her face. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. E. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. “I love you, Anna, and I want you for my wife. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company.
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