On this side of the canal she has no place to go. “What have you done to yourself?” he muttered. 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. But they cut it all off. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. More than this, it would serve to mitigate her own abysmal loneliness to pool it temporarily with his. ’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as before. ” “I say,” she reflected, “you ARE rather the master, you know.
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