This time he couldn't get far. And in the vestry was the sword of monsieur le major. Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. The militia were in already. She was definitely following him. Michelle was laid onto the back seat, her head cradled in Lucy’s lap.
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