of him, Lucrezia. Stop now.”
She turned away. “Cesare,” she said, “you cannot understand.”
He changed the subject. “We will order food to be brought to us here … here in your room of shadows. Here we shall eat alone, you and I. What say you to that, Lucrezia?”
“I would rather that than sit down with your men.”
He began to pace up and down the apartment. “I had pictured it differently … yourself eagerly greeting me … singing for me and my men … giving us a gay and happy evening, a memory which we could carry with us when we go into battle.”
“I am in no mood for merrymaking, Cesare,” she said.
Then he came to her again and took her by the shoulders. “Yet before I leave, I swear, your mood shall be changed.”
She allowed her eyes to rest upon his face. She thought: Once I should have been frightened of Cesare in this mood; now I no longer care. Alfonso, my love, is dead; and when he died, I ceased to care what happened to me.
The small table was laid in the room which overlooked the Sabine Mountains; there was a silver dish for Cesare, and an earthenware one for Lucrezia.
Cesare, frowning, called to a servant: “What means this? What is this from which you ask your mistress to eat?”
The servant was overcome by that fear which Cesare never failed to inspire. “If it please your lordship, it is the wish of Madonna Lucrezia to eat from earthenware as a sign of widowhood.”
“It is ugly,” said Cesare.
Lucrezia addressed the servant. “Leave the dish. It is my desire to eat from earthenware while I mourn my husband.”
“You shall not eat from earthenware while you sit at table with me, sister.”
“I am a widow, Cesare. I observe the custom of mourning.”
“It is well to mourn when there is someone to mourn for,” said Cesare. He called to the servant. “Bring a silver dish to replace this hideous thing.”
“Nay …” began Lucrezia.
But Cesare had picked up the earthenware dish and thrown it at the servant. “A silver dish,” commanded Cesare with a laugh.
And a silver dish was brought.
What did it matter? thought Lucrezia. Nothing could matter again. Could eating from an earthenware dish bring Alfonso back? Could it do him any harm if she ate from a silver dish?
They sat down and Cesare ate, but Lucrezia could swallow little.
“It is small wonder that you are looking frailer than ever,” said Cesare. “I shall not have a good report to take to our father.”
“I beg of you do not disturb him with tales of my ill health.”
“And I beg you to regain your health and spirits. You will never do that while moping in this place. How can you be content here?”
“I can be as contented here as anywhere.”
“Lucrezia, discard your mourning. The boy is dead. There are others in the world. I demand that you eat. Come … the food is good. You have an excellent cook here. I command you to eat. I shall insist, Lucrezia; so you must learn obedience.”
“We are not in the nursery now,” she said.
And she thought: No! Those days are far away. And it was as though the ghost of Giovanni, her murdered brother, came and stood at the table with the ghost of Alfonso.
If she were disturbed by these ghosts, Cesare was not. He had murdered her husband and their brother, yet he showed no signs of any qualms of conscience. It was necessary to Cesare to remove people, and he removed them. When they had gone he ceased to think of them.
“Then we will pretend we are,” he said.
She answered boldly: “Then Giovanni would be here.”
“There were happy days,” he retorted, “when you and I were alone. Let us imagine one of those days.”
“I cannot,” she cried. “I cannot. When I think of nursery days I remember Giovanni, even as I shall remember Alfonso, my husband, every minute of my life.”
“You are talking like a hysterical woman, Lucrezia. It is not what I expect of you. Come, be my sweet sister. Lucrezia, I am here. I, Cesare. I have come here with the express purpose of making you forget your grief. Now … we will begin by eating and drinking together. Come, Lucrezia, be my sweet sister.”
He was gentle suddenly, appealing to her love, and for a while she forgot that his hands were stained with the blood of her husband; and then she marveled at herself for forgetting.
She began to eat and, with his