Chapter 21 Chapter Twenty

On November 17, 1494, Charles VIII and his army captured Florence.Although history will regard this day as a disgrace to the Republic, the streets and alleys do not feel the atmosphere of subjugation at all, but there is a bit of joy. A crowd flocks to witness the poignant moment, among them a newlywed Langela couple: the gentleman scholar Christopher Foro and his tender bride, Alexandra, the youngest daughter of the Sage family. In less than an hour, the people here saw for the first (and certainly only) time that Florence was conquered by foreign armies. And just like that, my husband kept his promise.

After the wedding night, our communication stopped.I painted until dawn every night and then slept through the day; Ilila took my late rises for granted as a sign of a happy marriage.When she asked about my health, I replied that I was fine, then closed my eyes and made it clear that I didn't want to say anything more.Ah, I used to tell her everything in the world.I desperately longed for a bosom friend to whom I could tell everything that had happened to me.But my secret is a little bit tricky, it doesn't matter to anyone else, but it does me a lot of harm.Although she was closely related to me, she was still a slave, and I can even assert that with a little temptation, the power of rumors will overcome her loyalty to me.In any case, whenever I wake up from my bridal bed in the afternoon, I can always find excuses for myself, such as sketches scattered around.Maybe the deeper truth is that I can't bring myself to remember what happened, and I can't tell anyone else.

So when Cristoforo came towards us and sat on the window sill covered with linen and watched the crowd, she was already suspicious and got up to leave us without even looking at him.He waited until Irilah closed the door, then said, "She was very close to you, your servant?" I nod. "I'm glad so she can be with you. But I don't think you told her everything?" While this sounds like a question, it's actually a manifesto. "No," I said, "I haven't." In the silence that followed, I busily folded my clothes and looked meekly at the floor.Smiling as if I really were his beloved wife, he held out his arms to me, and we walked down the stairs side by side, out into the crowd.

At first Florence put on her best face in order to impress her conquerors.St. Felis performed a specially prepared "Annunciation" and my husband managed to get two tickets.It was a feast for the eyes, though I didn't see any other Medici supporters there. What the King of France thought of it is not recorded, but I know we Florentines were proud and impressed.But, looking back now, it's hard for me to distinguish whether my joy was due to the spectacle, or because my husband's erudition and commentary taught me to see the depths of things and grasp what I would otherwise have missed.

In the days that followed, the government was busy beguiling the king of France, and a treaty was signed which made the French occupation look like an invitation; Thank them for not bloodbathing the city.The government officials were polite, but the atmosphere in the streets soon deteriorated, and a handful of young would-be fighters began throwing stones at the invaders; only to be met with sword retaliation, and many Florentines were killed.There is no massacre, no stubborn resistance, but it somehow reminds us of the spirit that has been lost.Charles VIII realized that the Florentines did not welcome him so much. At this time, Savonarola said that if he left here sooner, God would follow him; so at the end of November, the French army left.People flocked to the streets to see them off, but only lightly stocked drinks.That's partly because the French didn't pay their bills, and our two nobles from Toulouse were no exception.They are liars after all.

During the entire process, my husband slept in the house every night for my safety.But two days after they left, he left too. Without him and the intruder, the whole house suddenly became deserted.The room was dark, the wood paneling was fading with age, the tapestries were eaten by insects, and the windows were too small to let in much light.I was afraid that my loneliness might turn into self-pity, so the next morning I woke Ilila at dawn, and together we went out into the street to try out the freedom of marriage.