"Why, how the devil did you happen to guess that?" cried the janizary. But if you wouldn't have me positively dislike Jack Sheppard, you'll never mention such a subject again. The chief scene of these disgusting orgies,—the cellar, just referred to,—was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors, and malefactors male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and consumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. “Never.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDEzLjU5LjE4Mi43NCAtIDIwLTA5LTIwMjQgMjA6Mjg6MTkgLSAxNDYxNTc4MjM4
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 19-09-2024 18:05:02
Related resources: Ref1 - Ref2 - Ref3 - Ref4 - Ref5 - Ref6 - Ref7 - Ref8