Rousing himself, he went to the door. The door was locked; but, with the bars of iron, it was speedily burst open. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. Except that this music we have been swimming in is divine. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps. ’ ‘Gracious heaven, Gerald! If your dear mama could not drag you to the altar, I am hardly likely to succeed.
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