The buboes broke and God took Lucia's mother. I’m not mad that he has eyes for you instead of me, not mad at all. Bodies were piled high in the streets, Sebastian went on rounds and would come back late at night, reporting horrors and robberies, death that came within hours, not days. “I am off to-night,” he said. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune. “Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent.
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