His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. "You are my prisoner. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. And she—’ ‘She!’ interrupted the young lady crossly. He knocked on the doorframe. They returned to the castle, neither of them speaking. ‘This, as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. You will be—my wife. . Gosse took a step or two towards the centre of the room.
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