He smiled. Not conceiving that his sister—feeble as she was, and yielding as she had ever shown herself to his wishes, whether expressed or implied—would depart without consulting him, he was equally surprised and enraged to hear the servants busied in transporting her to the carriage. Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. After the day in the library, he constantly demonstrated his affections; Gianfrancesco had never done that. “My husband and all his friends are fools, and the life they lead is impossible for me.
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