“Isn’t that rather a strange question—under the circumstances?” he asked quietly. ‘Oh, Marthe,’ she groaned, using in her accustomed way the French version of her nurse’s name, ‘that pig is going to monsieur le baron. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. . Black blood and white bone flew into the corners of the crypt, slathering the dead faces of the corpses left piled in the corner. Clarice loved babies as much as Lucia did and chattered about them day and night.
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