She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. He did not spend more time with her. The night was clear and moonlit, dazzling with even light blue shadows that shone into manicured lawns and pristine gardens. You'd not know what to do without me, and shan't drive me off. Idiote.
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