skin of the back of her hand, and he thought he felt
her tremble slightly.

Contessa Elvira eyed both of them, sighed happily, and said, "I think it
is time for me to find someone to play rota with. Perhaps I will ask
your uncle to tell my fortune with the cards. He reads the cards as well
as he reads the stars."

They bowed as she moved off. As she turned her back, Simon noticed that
her long blue velvet gown had threadbare patches in the rear. She was so
old and so powerful, Simon thought, that such things did not matter to
her. Perhaps it was a favorite gown from the days when she was young and
beautiful, like Sophia.

But he doubted that she had ever been as beautiful as Sophia.

"May I bring you some wine or something to eat, Madonna?" he asked
Sophia.

"Thank you, I am not hungry. But"--she gestured as if to free him from
obligation to stand with her--"perhaps you--"

"Oh, no, I am quite content. A hand of cards, then?" Simon hoped she
would see that he was making it his responsibility to entertain her.

She took a deep breath, and Simon felt a small thrill as he watched her
bosom rise and fall under the fine silk of her violet gown. "What I
would really like, Count, would be a stroll in the garden. This room,
big as it is, is so hot and crowded. And even though it is September,
this evening it is very warm, do you not think so?"

"Very warm," said Simon, delightedly taking her arm.

* * * * *

As Fra Tomasso chatted with him, Daoud watched de Gobignon and Sophia
stroll across the brightly candlelit hall to the door leading to the
inner galleria.

_De Gobignon spoke to me in the language of my parents._

Sire Geoffrey and Dame Evelyn Langmuir, he knew, were of English stock.
But Daoud's father had once told him that all the English nobility spoke
French.

Tonight was the first time since Daoud landed in Italy that he had heard
French or had spoken it. When he first heard himself addressed in
French, he had experienced a strange and frightening sensation, as if
his dead father were speaking to him. He hated de Gobignon for doing
that to him.

_And I hate him because he will enjoy the woman I want for myself._

The voice of Fra Tomasso faded away. Black rage filled Daoud's skull,
deafening and blinding him. He pictured Sophia naked in Simon de
Gobignon's arms, and his body trembled.

And when he did become Sophia's lover, the puppy would have no
understanding of ho