The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. Each time a daughter had been born to him he had concealed his chagrin with great tenderness and effusion from his wife, and had sworn unwontedly and with passionate sincerity in the bathroom. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. The law would accord her all her previous rights: she would return to the exact status out of which in his madness he had taken her. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. ” She hesitated and looked for a moment straight into his eyes. “For no other reason than you talk too much. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned. ” He said. He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. “I will not have this slavery. ’ ‘Yes, but how are you going to find her?’ ‘I will ask—’ She broke off. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. “I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said.
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