“I have come for an explanation,” she said. Curiously enough nothing will persuade him that she is not ‘Alcide. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. .
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