"Si—lence!" vociferated Charcam, laying great emphasis on the last syllable. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. Pah! What a pig is this générale. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. “I ate their mother first.
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