n
short, she put into one's imagination delicious images of love without
thinking of it, which is the characteristic of these cursed women.

The sculptor found her seated by the fire in a high chair, and the
lady immediately commenced to converse at her ease, although Angelo
could find no other replies than "Yes" and "No," could get no other
words from his throat nor idea in his brain, and would have beaten his
head against the fireplace but for the happiness of gazing at and
listening to his lovely mistress, who was playing there like a young
fly in the sunshine. Because, which this mute admiration, both
remained until the middle of the night, wandering slowly down the
flowery path of love, the good sculptor went away radiant with
happiness. On the road, he concluded in his own mind, that if a noble
lady kept him rather close to her skirts during four hours of the
night, it would not matter a straw if she kept him there the
remainder. Drawing from these premises certain corollaries, he
resolved to ask her favours as a simple woman. Then he determined to
kill everybody--the husband, the wife, or himself--rather than lose
the distaff whereon to spin one hour of joy. Indeed, he was so mad
with love, that he believed life to be but a small stake in the game
of love, since one single day of it was worth a thousand lives.

The Florentine chiselled away at his statues, thinking of his evening,
and thus spoiled many a nose thinking of something else. Noticing
this, he left his work, perfumed himself, and went to listen to the
sweet words of his lady, with the hope of turning them into deeds; but
when he was in the presence of his sovereign, her feminine majesty
made itself felt, and poor Cappara, such a lion in street, looked
sheepish when gazing at his victim. This notwithstanding, towards the
hour when desire becomes heated, he was almost in the lady's lap and
held her tightly clasped. He had obtained a kiss, had taken it, much
to his delight; for, when they give it, the ladies retain the right of
refusal, but when they left it to be taken, the lover may take a
thousand. This is the reason why all of them are accustomed to let it
be taken. The Florentine has stolen a great number, and things were
going on admirably, when the lady, who had been thrifty with her
favours, cried, "My husband!"

And, in fact, my lord had just returned from playing tennis, and the
sculptor had to leave the place, but not without receiving a war