“He has said something of the sort. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. With delicate touch he rescued all that was possible of them, and made a careful little parcel. "My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. She tended the twins while the Clotilde was in Sebastian’s private chambers, a place she gave a wide berth. Her faithful servant struggled, with her assistance, to rise. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of terror, he stumbled, and had well nigh realized his worst apprehensions.
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