She thought of all sorts of odd and desperate expedients, and with passionate petulance rejected them all. I can’t. Surely he was imagining this picture. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face.
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