“Is that a challenge?” She shrugged her shoulders, all ablaze with jewels. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. I knew where I would go next: Florence. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp.
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