She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. Her companion was a person of no inferior condition. " "I won't reproach you, Jack," said the other, sternly. 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. That would be an unkind twist of fate. Originally built, as its name imports, in a cylindrical form, like a modern Martello tower, it had undergone, from time to time, so many alterations, that its symmetry was, in a great measure, destroyed.
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