abused . As he looked into the mirror to wash , the face that stared back at him was ancient , the deep furrows of fatigue now far exceeding the many years of careful living . He was old , decayed , his once such elegant persona had given way to that of immorality and he remembered the odour within the room in which he had first been shown the painting , and recognised it to be the overwhelming stench of evil .
Any sane man would have taken and destroyed the image of such beauty , in the knowledge it brought with it a price far exceeding that of any monetary value , but having spent the majority of his adult life in search of Santina , the Don could not find it within himself . Instead , he had Alberto remove it from that of the study , to be stored in the darkest part of the massive wine caverns , deep below the villa .
The day went well , and much business was accomplished as Palatino returned to his customary , relaxed personality . Later in the evening , he feasted upon cold cuts of veal and olives , together with his best wine , reserved for his own personal consumption . Attired in night apparel , he opened the book he had been reading , and within the glow of a bright lamp decided to partake the final chapters before sleeping .
All the staff had been released and were retired for the night , the house was silent and through the open patio doors , the warm evening breeze brought with it the gentle rustle of leaves and the fragrant scent of Azalea blossom , together with the sound of a soft Ionian Sea , rising and falling along the pebbled shoreline far below . It all had the desired effect upon the Don , he was content , relaxed , but
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