And the sergeant, having carried out all Melusine’s instructions as if they had come out of his own head, went up to check on his patient, apparently at last convinced that his prisoner would not attempt to run away. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. He inspected the formidable array of rifles and at length walked over to the register. To-morrow morning I shall have made up my mind what to do. You may fall into the hands of your enemy.
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