But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke. She had a vision of policemen, reproving magistrates, a crowded court, public disgrace. "I cannot break my vow. Lucia dismissed the rumors, as it was not likely an archbishop would renege on his duties to become her personal doctor. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions.
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