Men in this part of the world drink to forget the things they have lost. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. At this gate two paths meet. I could not love you else. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. ’ Melusine sighed deeply.
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