She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next moment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. Did you bring any luggage?" "All I own. She was alarmed at how little her husband Gianfrancesco packed for the trip, leaving behind his best scarlet and black lucco, which he wore for every business and political meeting. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead.
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