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Her slow distracted gaze traveled from Glaud Burge to Jean le Prince, from Renot Babinet to François Bastarack, from Ambroise Tibedeaux along the line of stanch faces to Edelwald. His calm uplifted countenance with the horrible platform of death growing behind it looked, as it did when he happily met the sea wind or went singing through trackless wilderness.
"And so on until François Bastarack the twenty-third roller flowed over his head, and Edelwald did not even know he was beneath." Antonia dropped her face upon her hands. "So that is the true story," said Le Rossignol. "He died a good salt death, and his men pulled him out before the next tide." Presently Antonia looked up. Her eye was first caught by a coming sail on the river.
Glaud Burge handed them, down at the end of a ramrod. "But see yonder," he said to François Bastarack his companion, as they stood and watched the messengers tramp away. He pointed to Klussman below the fort poor Klussman whom the pearly vapors of morning could not conceal. "I could have done that myself in first heat, but I like not treating with a man who did it coolly."
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