A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. Mere formality. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. They arrived at the party shortly after 10:00pm. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger. "Don't think to deceive me by your false pretences. ” The talk was animated, and remained always brilliant in form even when it ceased to be brilliant in substance.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-09-2024 11:48:34