He leaned forward to better drink her in. “Bless you, sweetheart. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. "I merely asked the question," he said, after he had enjoyed the boy's suspense for a moment. She had been careless. Her eyes were insane with rage, crusted with yellow and green, only beginning to heal from her long sojourn underground. Who could guarantee a safer existence outside Florence? That Sebastian seemed to have a weird immunity to the Pestilence was a trait that went unquestioned, unanswered.
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