Very well, then. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. ’ ‘But you say that I was born here,’ objected Melusine. “To my chagrin, I have. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. All emotions laid hold of him, but none could he stay long enough to analyze it.
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