Just then—I was nervous. I am loved. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. The only occasional presence other than a skeleton crew of servants was Sebastianus, who occasionally joined Gianfrancesco in the hunt for stag, rabbit, or quail, and then went away for another fortnight. She had to think of something fast, or her reaction would start to make believers out of everyone. This person, whose age might be about forty, was attired in a brown double-breasted frieze coat, with very wide skirts, and a very narrow collar; a light drugget waistcoat, with pockets reaching to the knees; black plush breeches; grey worsted hose; and shoes with round toes, wooden heels, and high quarters, fastened by small silver buckles. She reeled in excitement, she unzipped his pants while kissing him, trying not to let herself stop touching him as she unclothed him. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged.
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