The servant, Anetta, washed him; cut his hair- erasing the hair about his manhood, legs, and arms from existence- before handing him a pair of breeches, trousers, and undershirt to wear. He thought he saw Anetta watching his nakedness, but he dismissed his allegations as false. When he was dressed, his madre, Maria, summoned him.
"Do you like it?" she asked, concerning an abstract portrait of some religious doctrine.
"What is it?"
"Use your brain, son."
"It disgusts me." Maria nodded, though not morosely, taking the painting down from the wall and tossing it into the fire. Ezio saw a glint in her eye as the canvas shrivelled up into a black shape, and then into nothingness.
"Madre, you didn't need to-" Maria shushed her son.
"Leonardo told me to do so if they were received badly. It was."
"Who's Leonardo?"
"A painter… he lives near the Arno. A charming man, but very self-conscious."
"I'm sure we're all self-conscious, madre."