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. The likeness was ridiculous. Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder. He and his friends (he had at least two per class, even in Trigonometry) would make their exits as quickly as possible. He must have been following her from room to room, silent in his stockinged feet.
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