This was the price for the the strange life she had chosen, but she had gone into it with eyes open, and there was no profit in regret.

There was always a way, when one knew what one wanted.

Eran extraños los caminos del corazón. Uno podía pasar años habituado a una pérdida, resignado, y después, con un pensamiento casual, el dolor volvía a la superficie, agudo y desnudo como una herida reciente.

and the Daughter.

primicerius? He was young, it was

Would he be happy? Joan hoped so. But somehow he seemed a man fated always to yearn after that which he could not have, to choose for himself the rockiest, most difficult path. She would pray for him, as for all the other sad and troubled souls who must travel roads alone.