The life with which he had endued these sheets of paper began to beckon imperiously. "I'll see him fettered myself. ‘And that Suzanne, the sister of my cousin the vicomte, must choose between Monsieur Charvill and her brother. I chose you for your strength, your cunning, your intelligence, your great beauty. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. He rose slowly and extended it.
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