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Updated: May 20, 2025
An old man, brown, bent and wrinkled, was digging about the shrubbery, perhaps preparing some of the plants for their winter sleep. He was clad in leather and linsey, and seemed ancient as the hills. He resumed his song. Josephine leaned out from the casement and softly joined in the refrain: "Rendez-moi ma patrie, ou laissez-moi mourir!" The old man dropped his spade.
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