In Paris, in July, a raging mob had stormed the Bastille, provoking circumspect aristocrats to uproot themselves and take refuge abroad. Who could guarantee a safer existence outside Florence? That Sebastian seemed to have a weird immunity to the Pestilence was a trait that went unquestioned, unanswered. He was profoundly stirred. Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat. She wrenched her head away from his grip and got her arm between his chest and hers. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth.
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