There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. It struck his forehead, splitting it, and brought him to his knees. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. Last time I left home I felt as hard as nails. A boy no older than she, Gianfrancesco’s cousin, whispered what he would like to do to her when she stole into the hallways near the women’s chambers to fix herself. "I alone am to blame.
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