The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. Has he given you the tools?" "He has," replied Bess, producing the handkerchief. She held out both her hands. Not us. “In the end,” it seemed to be thinking, “they embalmed me with the utmost respect—sound spices chosen to endure—the best! I took my world as I found it.
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