Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street. To think of him as loving her would make all that different. ‘You could have fetched me home. She spent many days in the castle alone as he busied himself with his alchemy, or traveled to Florence to visit his remaining political connections. He had a narrow escape, however; for, passing within an inch of him, the bullet burried itself deeply in the wall. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. His sword-arm fell useless at his side and she knew herself safe.
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