"The poor young man!" she said. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. I want to make myself visible to you. ‘Let us go elsewhere and discuss the matter. " This she did carefully, but inwardly commenting that he was still in the realm of strange fancies. Her heart failed her and her resolution became water.
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