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 so much; each man stayed more at home. The women wept and the men sat with their heads in their hands. A cold sort of fear plucked at the entrails of us, for it is one thing to go to your death smoking hot, your sword in your hand, and by chance have another man's sword thrust into you before you can at him, and another to march forth in the cold morning to have your throat slit.

In the morning of The Day we started forth early. I and a few of the other young scribes of the city had been sent for by Mazzaleone, and stood in the loggia to count the townsmen and tell their names—for what purpose I did not then know. It was a strange procession that came before our eyes—as odd a procession as ever any town witnessed, for there were our chief men and our nobles with their heads up; there were their ladies, and there were the poor of the town. Here a man who had missed a right hand for theft, and there an old woman hobbling on crutches, and children were there. As I looked I saw that, spread like a mourning veil over the crowd, were those dressed in black, and I saw that it was our