Michelle laughed, saying that she could only guess. She stopped eating. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. He passed but a cursory glance over the formal certificate that identified the Frenchman before him as one André Valade, distant cousin to the Vicomte Valade. Pierre. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly.
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