She had a vision of policemen, reproving magistrates, a crowded court, public disgrace. Darkness closed in on them as the officers stepped inside the musty interior. What a heat that news had wrought. 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. "But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours.
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