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. Wood's astonishment and displeasure momentarily increased. I am not French in the least. She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy. "So we are, Ma'am, by your charms," returned Mr.
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