" "My strength fails me," gasped the fugitive. I couldn't accept anything from you. "Sir Rowland must be gone. It was possible that his first impressions had not been correct. 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.
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