So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers—familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,—looked aghast at it. ” Ann Veronica said nothing. “Do you hear!” she said “whatever you are, wherever you are! I will not be slave to the thought of any man, slave to the customs of any time. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. She is in the hall now. Here, turnkey. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son.
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