But I was firm,
Everybody knows prayers.
Everyone knows, but not everyone prays, Lucia smiled and left the temple.
And then a month later, she came along to Jean-Baptiste with her father, a red-skinned, bulky Aubrey, to make a deal to mend their stables. As night came, Lucia was sent home. I sneaked around the corner of the house and with haste followed her along the bylanes. Strands of hair loosened out of her hairnet, not fastened by scarlet ribbons, not restrained by veils, fluttered to the rhythm of her rapid gait. But I remembered oh, I remembered! what an ardent look she threw at me before leaving. And I had to keep an eye on her burgundy surcoat with roses, gold brooches, brown hair. I followed her along the wasteland, cautiously stepping on the rough ground further, to the market square where the towers were asleep, where the beggars were sleeping, where the shuttered windows were asleep. She knew that I was around, and was intentionally slowing down, adjusting the fabric of her clothes, tidying her hair. And I was embarrassed by these thoughts, confused and my left leg was cramped until we both stopped in the stuffiness of the coming night.
I followed you a few blocks, but you didnt turn around. But you were aware that I was following you, werent you? You did know and deliberately didnt look back, didnt you, Lucia?