It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. 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. “Well, anyhow, consider it open. When mistress took and died—’ Joan broke off and sighed, moving away to the window. Not alone with her, that’s sure. I cannot protect you. Having no more patience, I drew you aside to give you a compliment on your radiant beauty.
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