Her new husband had paid for a cadre of escorts back to Mantua. A pity, en effet, that she dare not truly desire him to rescue her. The wedding day came shortly after she turned fourteen. She could not help but swoon a little. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. "I cannot break my vow. "I've counted ten coffins so far. “No I’m not, John. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her.
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