"Ruth!" She had gone to the door, aimlessly, without purpose. The chief scene of these disgusting orgies,—the cellar, just referred to,—was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors, and malefactors male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and consumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice. Wanton! Had I been one, even God would have forgiven me, understanding. " Miserably his thoughts shuttled to and fro in search of what he knew she wanted —a love story. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. 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.
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