But I do not even care if I am absurd. Martha had been more to her than that. Near the door stood a pile of deal planks, behind which the carpenter ensconced himself in order to reconnoitre, unobserved, the proceedings of his idle apprentice. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room. Her hand grasped it firmly, and she pushed herself forward. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti.
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