CHAPTER VIII
FOR a time it seemed as though the lust for revenge held sway in San Moglio. None thought of aught but killing, from our beautiful and arrogant lady, who sat brooding while she held death in her hand, to the very children who prattled in the street concerning whom they would kill.
Then came the thought of being killed. It came silently, like a frost in early summer. Death was still the thought of San Moglio, but each man now feared his own. The red desire of killing and of revenge turned pale, and by each man's hearthstone sat a cold little shadow of fear. I thanked God I had made no man my enemy. There were those who had tried to leave the city, but had been turned back with stern menace by Mazzaleone's men, and we knew that those who were caught in attempted flight would be incontinently killed. The fear that sat with us gave bravery to some timid ones, and these the men caught, and such pieces of their bodies as were left when the soldiers were through with them were burned in the public place.
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