" "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. Just this? Parbleu, did he think this was enough? She did not wish to marry him—at least, not just because he was an Englishman. The girl regarded him with the face of a Sphinx. At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door.
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