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Francesca said a word to Gina, who gave Rodolphe her arm as far as the Stopfers' door, and fled like a swallow as soon as she had rung. "These patriots do not play at killing!" said Rodolphe to himself as he felt his sufferings when he found himself in his bed. "'Nel lago! Gina would have pitched me into the lake with a stone tied to my neck."
Only show me the way out; I must get back to the Stopfers' house. Be easy; I shall tell nothing." Francesca, recovering from her astonishment, helped Rodolphe to rise, and said a few words to Gina, whose eyes filled with tears. The two girls made him sit down on a bench and take off his coat, his waistcoat and cravat. Then Gina opened his shirt and sucked the wound strongly.
The dinner and the evening were full of cheerfulness, justified, indeed, by the relief of the two refugees, but depressing to Rodolphe. "Can she be fickle?" he asked himself as he returned to the Stopfers' house. "She sympathized in my sorrow, and I cannot take part in her joy!" He blamed himself, justifying this girl-wife.
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