Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. They agreed to lend her their hold-all and a large, formless bag which they called the communal trunk. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. Voilà tout. He found the horse where Thames told him he would find him, mounted, and rode off across the fields in the direction of town. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors.
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