Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm.
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