She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. Manning as they talked. The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. ’ Melusine could not suppress a smile. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. "He knows he had to take it. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done.
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