She told him the story of her parents, her marriage to Iovelli, the loss of her baby, the kidnapping after the miscarriage. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. "Did you write it?" "No.
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