He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. Spurling stood her negro attendant, Caliban; a hideous, misshapen, malicious monster, with broad hunched shoulders, a flat nose, and ears like those of a wild beast, a head too large for his body, and a body too long for his legs. Catching hold of his chin, he bent back the neck, while with his left hand he pulled out a clasp knife, which he opened with his teeth, and grasping Wild's head with his arm, notwithstanding his resistance, cut deeply into his throat. No! not even the derivation! But the fashion’s been set and in it you must be. By degrees, his fears vanished, and hearing nothing, he grew calmer. " "Won't my life do as well as his?" supplicated the other.
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