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Updated: May 19, 2025
At once from the older boy came the sounds of one who breathes labouredly in deep sleep after a hard day. But the littler boy sat rebelliously up, digging combative fists into eyes that the light tickled. Clytemnestra warmly rebuked him, first simulating the frown of the irritated. "Now, Bernal! Wide awake! My days alive! You act like a wild Indian's little boy. This'll never do.
He ended with a sob, and when next he spoke it was more labouredly, as though that sob had robbed him of the half of what vitality remained. "Tell her, monsieur, that my dying thoughts were of her. Tell tell her I " "Her name?" I cried, fearing he would sink before I learned it. "Tell me her name." He looked at me with eyes that were growing glassy and vacant.
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