There was a tragic greatness about such as his grandmother, a salt of nobility which was lacking among the mellow Florentines.

Truth, it seemed to him, lay neither with the old Church nor the New Learning, and not by either way could he reach the desire of his heart.
Aimery bade him a reluctant farewell.

"If you will not keep me company here, I go to the wars.

At Beaumanoir I grow fat.

Ugh, this business of dying chills me." And then with a very red face he held out a gold ring.