The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. ‘Are you going to tell me?’ ‘But looking for proof,’ Melusine uttered impatiently. Her dainty shoes were soiled with dust and there was a great tear in her skirt. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. “I’m fine,” she said softly. “I know.
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