‘Are you going to come quietly, mademoiselle?’ he demanded with grim determination. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. ’ Melusine drowned in his kiss. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream.
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