6. “Do you need me to tell you? You have tasted the luxury of power. At the Palazzo, the cook’s cook had a team of servants under him. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. Pews had been brought in and set in two rows before the huge table, covered in white cloth, that formed the altar at the far end. Perhaps once it had desired some other human being intolerably. "I don't deserve it," he said, at length; "but I would have risked a thousand deaths to enjoy this moment's happiness.
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