‘C’est ridicule. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. Have you brought me a message from my sister? I understood, I believe, that she was seeing you last night. By a sort of instinct. From this perturbed state he was roused by thoughts of his mother, and fancying he heard her gentle voice urging him on to fresh exertion, he started up. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it. He was wrapped in a loose dressing-gown of light material, and stood near the corner where the women's dresses had just been thrown down, quite out of sight of all the party, except Mrs. I can vouch for that.
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