A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house. He turned back at once. I’ll give you grandpére!’ ‘But milor’—’ ‘Pardon!’ No longer master of his actions, the general lurched forward, waving his cane. Ruth's eyes were wet, but she saw light everywhere: the room was filled with celestial aura. "You shall see him to-morrow. We ourselves have been similarly circumstanced. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me.
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