What an inspiration, he thought, and what a pity it had not found shape in fact at the very moment when it had presented itself! He considered why he had never thought of it before, in all the years, as a means of freeing himself effectually from the despotism he detested.

It was a despotism, he reflected, and no other word expressed it.

He recalled many scenes in his home, in which Paolo had interfered.

He remembered how one Sunday, in the afternoon, they had all been together before going to walk in the Corso, and how he had undertaken to demonstrate to Maria Luisa and Lucia the folly of wasting time in going to church on Sundays.

He had argued gently and reasonably, he thought.