As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. Immediately the soldiers of the major will come from the gate. Was he pleased?” “Calmly! He said—you won’t mind my telling you?” “Not a bit. It was evident the lady’s servant knew his mistress, for he had come equipped with a tray upon which reposed a decanter and two glasses.
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