The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. “Listen to me. "Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it.
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