All the influences about her worked with her own predisposition and against all the traditions of her home and upbringing to deal with the facts of life in an unabashed manner. Anna and her escort exchanged glances. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. Gifts came from Florence: rubies and emeralds, a beautiful statue of Santa Maria for their garden grotto, a gorgeous silk tapestry of a hunting scene that alone made the price of her dowry look paltry. Not all of us, but some of us. Too many. You are nothing of the sort. ‘Exactement. It warms me, and lights me, and fills my world with flowers. I forget.
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