’ ‘Never mind the comtesse,’ adjured Prudence. You would suffer the torments of the damned for what you had done. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself.
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