“Forgive me,” he said. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. She suspected that he would take a mistress just as soon as they returned to Florence. But it is all very different. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression.
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