The tragedy of Currado Malaspina is too petty, too puerile, too insignificant to serve as a cautionary tale. Malaspina is a silly, gifted man. His reputation in France has never suffered from his serial scandals. Quite the contrary. But to American sensibilities, his chest-thumping maleness is a putrid remnant of a discredited time.
Perhaps this graphic record will suffice.
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