"No; I don't think I'd laugh. The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms. " As he said this, he moved forward a few paces, when, finding his feet glued to the ground by some adhesive substance, he stooped to feel what it was, but instantly withdrew his hand, with an exclamation of horror. “My heart, my dove, I only want to heal you. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. As a dog eats grass. 'He's a good fellow, and 'twill all end well'.
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