'" "What is that?" she asked. ‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. When at first she had realized that he 206 had conducted a sexual affair with a local well-known Florentine courtesan she called him out, accusing him of exposing her to an array of diseases. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. "I'm dumb. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes.
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