She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. The water was cold but she waded deeper. Next to the executioner stood his wife—the former Mrs. Lucia dismissed the rumors, as it was not likely an archbishop would renege on his duties to become her personal doctor. Rummage, my boy, do. A world of haystacks, bean-stacks, and strawricks flanked the granges adjoining his habitation; the yard was crowded with poultry, pigeons were feeding at his feet, cattle were being driven towards the stall, horses led to the stable, a large mastiff was rattling his chain, and stalking majestically in front of his kennel, while a number of farming-men were passing and repassing about their various occupations.
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