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"Plus pres du feu file, ma cherie; La nuit vient de refroidir le temps" "Adrien, m'a-t-on dit, ma mere, Gemit dans des cachots flottants. On repousse la main fletrie Qu'il etend vers an pain grossier." Jeannette repeated these lines with a pathos so real that I felt a moisture rising in my eyes. 'Where did you learn that, child? I asked. 'Father Piret, madame. 'What is it? 'Je n'sais.
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