And her ire is apparently not confined to staff. “Listen. She can be very, very abrasive. At him!” says a close friend. There have been blowups, say those who have witnessed them, and obtuse demands. Some years ago on a plane to Japan, Judith became so angry at her husband, says a close Giuliani friend, that Rudy, who “couldn’t take it anymore,” moved to the back of the aircraft, switching places with an advance man.

In a massive Baden-Baden hotel suite five years ago, an observer tells me, a loud quarrel erupted when Judith pointedly denied one of her husband’s requests. She refused to remove her toiletries case from a bedroom reserved for a policeman, claiming it would be bothersome, since the case was already unpacked. In Mexico, I am told, at a time when security was very tight and armored S.U.V.’s were deemed necessary, she asked her husband to leave the car to retrieve a bag of health bars she had mislaid.

There are also, of late, large expenses: a Palm Beach house Rudy bought for the elder Stishes, and other lavish purchases by Judith. Around New York, reporters are hearing that she recently spent $40,000 in a week. “Driving him crazy” is the phrase used.

In the ladies’ room, observers got a glimpse of the real Judith.

There have been public missteps as well. In April, for example, she spoke before fellow Republicans of her unrivaled ability “to pick up the phone as Judith Giuliani” to get charitable contributions, at which point the tabloids made a meal of what they perceived to be her vainglory. However, it was clearly a phrase that came from Judith’s heart: a tribute less to herself than to the clout of her husband, to whom she is indebted for whatever power she holds, for however long she holds it.

The position of “Mrs. Giuliani” has not historically been a secure post. Although the candidate has lately been warned by advisers to avoid any hint of scandal, there is a sense that perhaps he is not listening. “Does a leopard change its spots?” says one close friend. Recently, Starr Shephard, a Texan who informs me she used to be on the “U.S. world team of rhythmic twirling gymnastics,” emerged in The National Enquirer, which ran a story suggesting she might be a Giuliani love interest. “I am not having an affair with Rudy Giuliani. I do not need a political power stick,” the 36-year-old redhead says when I call her. “I believe in his vision and his voice even if I do not believe in his family.”

“What do you mean by that?” I wonder.

“Oh, you know, you hear things about his family,” she replies.

“God Bless America for his power,” Shephard writes on MySpace. Beneath a photo of herself and Rudy there is a promise that he will “advance our one nation under God.”

Naturally, Judith is on her guard. “And who are you?” she inquired of an attractive and prominent Republican woman who embraced her husband during a chance encounter in a New York restaurant. The woman marvels at such behavior. (“I felt like saying, ‘Really, it’s O.K.! I love my husband!’” she recalls.) But who can blame Judith?

“They’re all there to stay,” says Papir. “Until they’re gone. And the staff usually knows before they do. And we hear the footsteps.”

There have been other moments of vulnerability. At the close of the May Republican debate, Judith leapt onstage eagerly, her face beaming with delight. Giuliani, it was noted, appeared strangely disconcerted. “It did not look like he was happy to see her. It looked to me like he was estranged,” says Barrett. “He was cold.”

It was in the ladies’ room before the event that observers got a telling glimpse of the real Judith. She had gone there to touch up her makeup when some of her husband’s staff informed her Giuliani was in the vicinity, walking by.

“He’s out there! Coming by!” repeated Judith, her voice tense with excitement. And then a plea: “Tell him to wait for me!”

Judy Bachrach is a Vanity Fair contributing editor.