E. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. She left for good after he fell asleep. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. He returned, sitting on the floor beside the couch adoring her and stroking her bare arms. ‘Not kill me, I mean. . She was alarmed at how little her husband Gianfrancesco packed for the trip, leaving behind his best scarlet and black lucco, which he wore for every business and political meeting. On Sunday, he was conveyed to the chapel, through which he had passed on the occasion of his great escape, and once more took his seat in the Condemned Pew. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow.
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