The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. F. Go off and live together—until we can marry. Gifts came from Florence: rubies and emeralds, a beautiful statue of Santa Maria for their garden grotto, a gorgeous silk tapestry of a hunting scene that alone made the price of her dowry look paltry. On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. Suffer me to precede you.
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