His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. No—you shall come with me to Waterloo. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. ‘I am saying so,’ protested Gerald mildly. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. “Excellent fellow!” he answered a little irrelevantly.
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