Wait a second. Cautiously stepping outside, he looked up towards the terrace. "So it is," the doctor agreed. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyMi4xMTkuMTkgLSAxOC0wNy0yMDI0IDA1OjI3OjM4IC0gMTkxMDcyMjUxOQ==
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