.

FRA GERVASIO.
I did not again see my mother that day, nor did she sup with us that evening.

I was told by Fra Gervasio that on my account was she in retreat, praying for light and guidance in the thing that must be determined concerning me.
I withdrew early to my little bedroom overlooking the gardens, a room that had more the air of a monastic cell than a bedchamber fitting the estate of the Lord of Mondolfo.

The walls were whitewashed, and besides the crucifix that hung over my bed, their only decoration was a crude painting of St.Augustine disputing with the little boy on the seashore.
For bed I had a plain hard pallet, and the room contained, in addition, a wooden chair, a stool upon which was set a steel basin with its ewer for my ablutions, and a cupboard for the few sombre black garments I possessed--for the amiable vanity of raiment usual in young men of my years had never yet assailed me; I had none to emulate in that respect.
I got me to bed, blew out my taper, and composed myself to sleep.

But sleep was playing truant from me.