"I cannot break my vow. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. I jumped then—I was not even shaken. ’ ‘I do not care any more about the portrait,’ Melusine said, opening the door to the attic corridor that gave off onto the row of little rooms that served as private cells for the senior nuns. While he was thus employed, his nerves underwent a severe shock. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die.
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