"Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. . A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. ’ ‘But why, Marthe,’ asked Melusine, as she walked into the house. ’ ‘I could have done so at the first and saved you the pain,’ she told him merrily. The knight mechanically complied with his request. “A move of any sort would certainly be fatal.
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