pride of place within the lavish surroundings of his own villa , high on the lush hillside overlooking the Ionian Sea .
Reclining upon his favourite couch , he luxuriated in the aromatic vapours of the thin cigar , whilst gazing in unadulterated satisfaction , the image of such splendour now residing upon an ornately fashioned , portrait stand . His mind wandered as he recollected the origins of the painting , and felt his skin crawl , as he pondered its macabre history .
She was once the most beautiful wife to a much older shipping magnate Giuseppe Mazzaglia , nearly a century past . Upon the unexpected return of her husband one night , she was found naked upon her bed in the arms of the merchant ’ s stepson from an earlier marriage . In a fit of rage , the merchant was said to have gored the stepson about the neck , then throttled his young bride with his own bare hands . It was further claimed , he then dismembered her body and having removed the heart , crushed it to a paste . It was that , together with her blood , that the image was said to have been rendered . The unknown artist , although reported to have been handsomely rewarded for his work , was never to be seen nor heard of again after Giuseppe Mazzaglia was tried , convicted , and eventually executed for the death of the two young lovers .
The Don had , as a much younger man , read the story , and having seen replicas of the young bride ’ s likeness , fallen so deeply in love , albeit only with her image . It was as though she had in some way called out to
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