“Do you need me to tell you? You have tasted the luxury of power. ‘He had run away with a Frenchwoman, you see, but Everett Charvill—I refer to the general—took care to conceal the matter. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. While waiting for his coming she had stated her present and future relations with him with what had seemed to her the most satisfactory lucidity and completeness.
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