"Hush!" she said, putting her lean fingers to her lips. Who could guarantee a safer existence outside Florence? That Sebastian seemed to have a weird immunity to the Pestilence was a trait that went unquestioned, unanswered. To lose was death, quickly and mercilessly delivered. His brute strength surged through her veins, she could feel his energy in her heart, his life force stolen like candy from a baby. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. " "Then this is not my child?" exclaimed she, with increased astonishment. The bridge was open.
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