” “Right!” he answered. “I am the most foolish of men. I’m starving. The pieces fell to the ground in a little white shower. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. I believe—I believe that I must risk it.
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