When he returned, it was always the same. ’ ‘From a convent? Even if I wished to do it, I could not. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. If he wished, he could even take this inheritance from her. And if one were to love some one very much, it’s just so that one would be blindest, just when one wanted most to see. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. Your life is like a funeral March.
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