I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses.
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