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A young Florentine woman’s life is buffeted by betrayal in love and upheaval in religion.

Page 668 of 765
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LXI

She drew the cowl over her head again and covered her face, choosing darkness rather than the light of the stars, which seemed to her like the hard light of eyes that looked at her without seeing her. Presently she felt that she was in the grave, but not resting there: she was touching the hands of the beloved dead beside her, and trying to wake them.

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