Mazzaglia , the man who as a much younger boy , had taken the family name of his stepfather . And it dawned upon him , the much younger body he felt to be his own in the dream , was in fact that of Vincenzo .
He thus refused to look upon the painting , and spent the best part of the day busying himself in the affairs of running the vineyards and winery of his forefathers . But as the day progressed , he found himself drawn from behind the desk and as Alberto brought him his afternoon brandy , he thus reclined once more upon the couch facing the portrait , whilst gazing transfixed , into the dark hypnotic eyes of Santina Mazzaglia .
She came to him yet again that night , and he cared not the body he possessed was not his own , but one borrowed from a man of whom he knew next to nothing about . Neither did he empathise with the emotions of the adopted father he had so irreverently betrayed , and whose young wife he now devoured with his own lascivious cravings . The feelings he felt were those of Allisandru Palatino , albeit the strength and virility flowing through him , belonged to those of a much younger man .
It was the hammering upon the heavy bedroom door , that suspended their passionate lovemaking . The muffled shouting from the far side , demanding the door be opened and the fear seen within Santina ’ s beautiful eyes , as they both realised the retribution they faced would be in the extreme . And as the door burst off its hinges , Palatino awakened .
Yet again he had slept late , and yet again , felt drawn and worn , his mind and body exhausted and
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