Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignancy? Then came another thought, astonishing. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. Fool that I was to marry for beauty! I ought to have remembered that a fair woman and a slashed gown always find some nail in the way. A species of vertigo seized him.
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