A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. After much clapping, they started. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. The atmosphere was 46 strained and deathly quiet at the dining room table. She was finally dead, going to Hell. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. ‘In fact you admitted only that you had no more weapons. ” 227 “Your family?” “She was my first wife, and because she turned me, she was like a mother to me.
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