Her father was holding her waist, smiling. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. Of course I know nothing of what really did happen in Paris—if even you ever saw him there. Wood set off at full speed from the Mint, and, hurrying he scarce knew whither (for there was such a continual buzzing in his ears and dancing in his eyes, as almost to take away the power of reflection), he held on at a brisk pace till his strength completely failed him. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. So overjoyed was the carpenter with the successful issue of his undertaking, that he scarcely paused a moment to recruit himself; but, securing the child, set out upon his return.
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