She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. Upon this island whither he was bound there would be no diversions, breathing spells; the battle would be constant. But the rise of the chest was quite perceptible now. 266 She peered up at him. "We have him!" cried Jonathan, hurrying down the steps.
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