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Unformatted text preview: d. "I'm a Franciscan. I won't ride on it. Why have you been following me? I saw you in Florence. I've seen you many times before that." 521 "You must talk to me," he said. "You must come with me. The others haven't an inkling of your secret nature. But I know what it is." I was horrified at these words. It was the dropping of a sword which had been dangling over me forever. My breath went out of me. I bent double as if I'd been struck and I went further out, that way, stagger- ing, into the field. The grass was soft and I lay down, covering my eyes from the glaring sun. He dismounted and came after, leading his horse. He deliberately stood between me and the sun, so that I could take my hand away from my eyes. He was powerfully built like many from Northern Europe, and he had the thick eyebrows those people have, and the pale cheeks. "I know who you are, Ashlar," he said to me in Italian with a Dutch accent. And then he began to speak Latin. "I know you...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10