"Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. Wrenched from their holds, the iron palisades in front of the thief-taker's dwelling were used as weapons to burst open the door. "Is she married?" he asked, after a brief pause. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out.
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