Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. Jack! Mon dieu, but he was unarmed. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. Spurlock stepped into the room. "Weep on, reprobate," cried the carpenter, a little softened.
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