His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. Pale, flesh-colored light filtered in through the corners of the house. When Gianfrancesco came to call this time, she was excited and ready. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. He displayed a quite unprofessional vein of mysticism in the matter. Brendon.
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