28The dinner was drawing to a close. Notary Orsini had insisted Damiano, the tutor, stay and dine with them.
Beatrice had hardly even dared to raise her eyes from her plate, except to spy on her husband’s movements. She had noticed that he was observing both of them, watching first him and then her in turn. She had not looked at Damiano once, so she did not know whether he looked intimidated or not. He certainly had not said a word and neither had his hosts.
Finally, while sinking his spoon into the blancmange, the notary broke the silence.
«I love sweet rice, and this taste of almonds and milk, so delicate… true poetry! Do you not agree, my dear wife? Speaking of poetry I found this note in your bedroom».
«In my bedroom? How?» He had once again sent one of his servants to search her b
