BetrayalMemoriesBetrayal
~February 14, 1860 ~ Caesar Dante
His mother is away again, having taken Diego and Aeneas out to a banquet. I remained behind with the explanation that I felt ill, which merely earned me a look of annoyance from the Madame as she took her leave with our sons. The searching began, scouring every nook and cranny of this elegant mansion, with its marble staircases and exquisite furniture, right down to the still better than average servants' quarters. Finally, a quiet, hesitantly played note rang out, sounding clearly throughout the near-empty mansion. I slipped into the music room which housed a once marvelous
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"My life is a cucumber. It hasn't developed into a pickle yet." ~Jgj
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