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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. Beyond was a field sloping steeply upwards, and at the top a small pine plantation. There would be no mercy in this man. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions.
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