Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. It'll be your turn to save mine next. You are right. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. She is your sister, and God knows I wish her none. Her whole face stiffened with suppressed anger. ” She shook her head.
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