They did not have to wait long. ’ ‘Don’t you dare. They bickered frequently now as Gianfrancesco protested the prices of things like funeral candles and poultices to comfort the dying. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. To return. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears.
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