“What he had was altogether insufficient. Go to your sister, and do not quit her till all is over. ‘Let go!’ ‘Do you take me for a fool?’ Gerald demanded. 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. At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade.
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