He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. He looked at his friend. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. "Few stay more than a day. "I understand," she said. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. ” “And mine,” murmured his companion, with the smile still lingering upon his lips.
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