Afraid there'll be a love-affair. She wrote it down. ‘Hilary was right. And what was singular she did not recount to the doctor that morning's adventure. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge. “Was I not strong enough when you flogged me for leaning over the oubliette? Who tells you these things? The physician, Sebastianus? Am I not sovereign enough to judge what is happening to my own body?\" She demanded. 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. The veranda bamboo will be enough for me. You do not know him.
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