She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. Melusine shrieked an imprecation, and ran the length of the aisle, searching for the weapon she had thrown. \"The servants will hear you!\" \"I don't care! Why do you?” She cried. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat.
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