“You are in luck, Miss Pellissier,” he declared. The baby crawled towards them, seeking their blood. His hands reached under her skirt. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. But the first one was brought home, and it was the beginning of the end. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. Never for a moment had violence come between these two since long ago he had, in spite of her mother’s protest in the background, carried her kicking and squalling to the nursery for some forgotten crime. Wild," replied the other, "a little shaken, that's all.
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