As he hesitated, unable to make up his mind what to do for the best, a heavy rumbling on the cobbles penetrated his absorption. Promise me that you will not disobey the injunctions of her whose memory we must both of us ever revere. Nothing could have been farther from Melusine’s mind. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. Suddenly he came to a stop, his mouth agape. "My servants, like Eastern mutes, must have eyes, and ears,— and hands, if need be,—but no tongues.
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