‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. It was a simple wish. I am so amazed to see you here. Do you think I would marry you? Rather would I marry the pig in the convent. The law would accord her all her previous rights: she would return to the exact status out of which in his madness he had taken her. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise.
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