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D'ou ton esprit craintif conjure la tempete Que souleve ala cour un peuple d'envieux: Vois cette grandeur fragile Et cesse enfin d'admirer L'eclat pompeux d'une ville Ou tout feint de t'adorer." The count's voice had at first been loud, pathetic, and slightly ironical, but it became gradually lower, and sank at last almost to a whisper. A deep, angry red suffused his face, as he read on.
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