She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. "The poor young man!" she said. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. She had worried in fear that the excitement would be too much for him.
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