I knew him in spite of his dress. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. "Oh God! how fearfully my father is avenged!" "True," replied Jack, sternly; "but we have our uncle to avenge. .
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