The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. The title had formerly been held by Gianfrancesco’s brother, Alessia, now dead of plague. I saw the blood come as he rolled over. I have yet another. Striking out his foot, he knocked half a dozen teeth down the janizary's throat; and, seconding the kick with a blow on the head from the butt-end of the pistol, stretched him, senseless and bleeding on the ground.
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