“The smells of the place, damp stone and body odor imperfectly hidden by overstrong perfumes and raw power, washed over him and made his stomach churn. The Doge listened with a warm smile and cold eyes. “You take advantage of our nature,” he said, as if scolding a stupid child. “Through our love, you are not forced to wear the yellow hat. You and your family are allowed to live in a fine house like proper Christians instead of within the Gietto. But all this is not enough. Still you must pester ...me about dead Jews.” “Funeral processions are attacked between the Gietto and our cemetery on the Lido, Your Grace,” Isaac protested. “We cannot even bury our dead under cover of darkness, since by law the three Gietto gates are locked at dusk and not opened until the morning bell rings in the Campanile of San Marco. We require the protection of our soldiers.” “A simple matter,” the Doge said. “Contact me whenever one of your number dies.” “We would not wish to bother you so often,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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