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. Two women entered and sat down at the adjoining table. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone.
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