’ ‘Dieu du ciel,’ burst from mademoiselle as she jumped up. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. Indeed, she did not want to think of him as loving her.
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