Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad. Aroused by the sound of the church bells, he resolved, at whatever risk, to attend Divine service. Michelle looked at their reflections in the wall mirror. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. “I shan’t eat him. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. I want to shout! I want to sing! I am glad! I am glad to be alive because you are alive! I am glad to be a woman because you are a man! I am glad! I am glad! I am glad! I thank God for life and you. “Yes.
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