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Unformatted text preview: people were crying, and sobbing, and men were rushing to and fro. It was a massacre. "Taltos!" Someone shouted it, and then I beheld in my dream the farmer from the field near Florence, and heard him whisper, "Taltos!" and I saw before me again a pitcher of milk. Thirsty, I woke, and sat bolt upright as was my custom, and stared around me in the dark. All the women were still, but with their eyes open. This struck me as horrid, horrid as the illusion that the woman's face had been on the back of her head. I reached out to shake awake the blond woman, so rigid was her gaze. And I perceived the moment I touched her that she lay dead in a pool of her own blood. Indeed, all of them were dead, one on either side of me, and the three who lay on the floor. They were dead. And the bed was soaked with the blood and it stank of human people. I rushed out into the courtyard in uncontrollable cowardice, and collapsed near the fountain, on my knees, trembling, unsure of what I had seen. But when I finally rose to my feet and retur...
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- Spring '10