A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. We’ll have some buttered toast. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation. “Listen,” she said. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. She fell into another slumber, one which was more like a blackout.
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