I—I hurt myself. She will take me in until I can make some plans. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. The only occasional presence other than a skeleton crew of servants was Sebastianus, who occasionally joined Gianfrancesco in the hunt for stag, rabbit, or quail, and then went away for another fortnight. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. She ought to be softened and tender and confidential at this phase of her life. You know not in what dark places my life has been cast; with what crimes it has been stained. To stop her, Sebastian slapped her face and nearly dislocated her jaw. You get the idea. “Indeed,” she said, “I would not. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers.
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