‘Oh, peste. "Seize this oar," vociferated the waterman. What a girl of sixteen cares for is hair and a high color and moonlight and a tenor voice. It seemed that within an instant the Pestilence struck, and she begged me on her deathbed to shelter you and her grandson for the rest of your lives, as she could see that even though I was a ‘demon fiend’ and ‘minor devil’ that I loved you.
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