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He hovered in the bed； his dagger still tightly clutched in his hand； the feathers having settled on his carrot…colored head and on his shoulders and on his beard。 He looked truly dangerous。
I'd lost count of the nights of my absence。
I could find no churches open。 I wanted no pany。
It was dark and cold。 The curfew had e down。 Of course the Venetian winter seemed mild to me after the snowy lands of the north； where I'd been born； but it was nevertheless an oppressive and damp winter； and though cleansing breezes purified the city； it was inhospitable and unnaturally quiet。 The illimitable sky vanished in thick mists。 The very stones gave forth the chill as if they were blocks of ice。
On a water stairs； I sat； not caring that it was brutally wet； and I burst into tears。 What had I learned from all this？
I felt very sophisticated on account of this education。 But I had no warmth from it； no lasting warmth； and it seemed my loneliness was worse than guilt； worse than the feeling of being damned。
Indeed it seemed to replace that old feeling。 I feared it； being utterly alone。 As I sat there looking up at the tiny margin of black Heaven； at the few stars that drifted over the roofs of the houses； I sensed how utterly terrible it would be to lose both my Master and my guilt simultaneously； to be cast out where nothing bothered to love me or damn me； to be lost and tumbling through the world with only those humans for panions； those boys and those girls； the English lord with his dagger； even my beloved Bianca。
It was to her house that I went。 I climbed under her bed； as I'd done in the past； and wouldn't e out。
She was entertaining a whole flock of Englishmen； but not； fortunately； my copper…haired lover； who was no doubt still stumbling around in the feathers； and I thought； Well； if my charming Lord Harlech shows up； he won't risk shame before his countrymen in making a fool out of himself。 She came in； looking most lovely in her violet silk gown with a fortune of radiant pearls around her neck。 She knelt down and put her head near mine。
〃Amadeo； what's the matter with you？〃
I had never asked for her favors。 To my knowledge no one did such a thing。 But in my particular adolescent frenzy； nothing seemed more appropriate than that I should ravage her。
I scrambled out from under the bed and went to the doors and shut them； so the noise of her guests would leave us alone。
When I turned around she knelt on the floor； looking at me； her golden eyebrows knotted and her peach…soft lips open in a vague wondering expression that I found enchanting。 I wanted to smash her with my passion； but not all that hard； of course； assuming all the while that she'd e back together again afterwards as if a beautiful vase； broken into pieces； could pull itself together again from all the tiniest shards and particles and be restored to its glory with an even finer glaze。
I pulled her up by the arms and threw her down on her bed。 It was quite an affair； this marvelous coffered thing in which she slept alone； as far as all men knew。 It had great gilded swans at its head； and columns rising to a framed canopy of painted dancing nymphs。 Its curtains were spun gold and transparent。 It had no winter aspect to it； like my Master's red velvet bed。
I bent down and kissed her； maddened by her sharp； pretty eyes which stared coolly at me as I did it。 I held her wrists and then； swinging her left wrist over with her right； entrapped both her hands in one so that I was free to rip open her fine dress。 I ripped it carefully so that all the little pearl buttons flew off the side of it； and her girdle was opened and underneath was her fine whalebone and lace。 This I broke open as if it were a tight shell。
Her breasts were small and sweet； far too delicate and youngish for the brothel where voluptuousness had been the order of the day。 I meant to pillage them nevertheless。 I crooned against her； humming a bit of a song to her； and then I heard her sigh。 I swooped down； still clutching her wrists firmly； and I sucked hard at her nipples in quick order and then drew back。 I slapped her breasts playfully； from left to right until they turned pink。
Her face was flushed and she had her little golden frown still； the wrinkles almost incongruous in her smooth white forehead。
Her eyes were like two opals； and though she blinked slowly； near sleepily； she didn't flinch。
I finished my work on her fragile clothes。 I ripped open the ties of her skirt and pushed it down away from her and found her splendidly and daintily naked as I had supposed she would be。 I really had no idea what was beneath the skirts of a respectable woman in the way of obstacles。 There was nothing except the small golden nest of her pubic hair； all feathery beneath her very slightly rounded little belly； and a dampness gleaming on her inner thighs。
I knew at once she favored me。 She was hardly helpless。 And the sight of the glittering down on her legs drove me mad。 I plunged into her； amazed at her smallness and the way that she cringed； for she was not very well used； and it hurt her just a little。
I worked her hard； delighting to see her blush。 My own weight I held up above her with my right arm； because I wouldn't let go of her wrists。 She tossed and turned； and her blond tresses worked themselves out of her pearl and ribbon coif； and she became moist all over and pink and gleaming； like the inner curve of a great shell。
At last I couldn't contain myself any longer； and it seemed when I would give up the timing； she gave herself up to the final sigh。 I spent with it； and we rocked together； as she closed her eyes； turned blood red as if she were dying and tossed her head in a final frenzy before going limp。
I rolled over and covered my face with both my arms； as if I were about to be slapped。
I heard her little laughter； and she did slap me suddenly； hard on my arms。 It was nothing。 I made as if I were weeping with shame。
〃Look what you've done to my beautiful gown； you dreadful little satyr； you secret conquistador！ You vile precocious child！〃
I felt her weight leave the bed。 I heard her dressing。 She sang to herself。
〃What's your Master going to think of this； Amadeo？〃 she asked。
I removed my arms and looked to find her voice。 She dressed behind her painted paneled screen； a gift from Paris； if I recalled； given her by one of her favorite French poets。 She appeared quickly； clothed as splendidly as before in a dress of pale spring green； embroidered with the flowers of the field。 She seemed a very garden of delight with these tiny yellow and pink blooms so carefully made in rich thread over her new bodice and her long taffeta skirts。
〃Well； tell me； what is the great Master going to say when he finds out his little lover is a veritable god of the wood？〃
〃Lover？〃 I was astonished。
She was very gentle in her manner。 She sat down and began to b out her tousled hair。 She wore no paint and her face was unmarred by our games； and her hair came down around in a glorious hood of rippling gold。 Her forehead