You understand. She was surprised and stared at him when he did not immediately leave the bed as Gianfrancesco always did, but instead rested on his elbows. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. It seemed older than Rome, and the stone covering it gave resistance. Concealed among the trees that edged the estate grounds, the watchers paused. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. Eggs were procured for her, and she sat out the subsequent emotions and eloquence with the dignity becoming an injured lady of good family.
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