“I think,” began Ann Veronica, “that you don’t realize—” He disregarded her entirely. The next morning came a compact letter from her father. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. 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.
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