CHAPTER XVII. 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. Roof open —like a Noah’s Ark. He was into the passage in time to see her slip into another chamber at the end. ’ Quick anger flared, surpassing the fluttering hope. C below.
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