I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. ‘Jacques, are you dead? Jacques, do you hear me?’ Melusine put her cheek to his lips, and felt the faint warmth of his breath. Lucy collapsed to the floor in a sob. And it hampers us.
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