leave her bedroom. From her
bed she heard Úrsulas
weeping, the steps and
whispers of the multitude that
invaded the house, the
wailing of the mourners, and
then a deep silence that
smelled of trampled flowers.
For a long time she kept on
smelling Pietro Crespis
lavender breath at dusk, but
she had the strength not to
succumb to delirium. Úrsula
abandoned her. She did not
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