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. The shot had taken effect upon the waterman who rowed the chase. She kissed Cathy's soft cheek as she entered the warm kitchen. ‘You see, it is that I am a female, and you all are men. “Do something!” But he laid by his prey, half-watching the fight, gorging on the woman he had caught that had been meant for Rhea and her child.
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