It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. " So saying, he descended a short spiral staircase, and, entering a long stone gallery, from which several other passages branched, took one of them, and after various turnings—for he was familiar with all the intricacies of the prison— arrived at the cell of which he was in search.
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