He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. Was the situation so desperate that he could not pack his best things? She had packed lightly, not wanting to weigh down the carriage they would travel in. "Sir Rowland, I salute you as your nephew. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. I'm sure she'll let me go, though. “I first saw you crossing the river Arno, after a spring rain had spoiled the day for everyone except the ducks. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. Enter the house with your men.
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