"It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. I am called Melusine. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove.
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