’ The listening soldiers began to snigger behind their hands. 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. Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face.
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