She could not see what occurred, though she guessed it; but she saw Jonathan's devilish triumphing glance, and read in it,—"Your son has committed a robbery—here—in these holy walls—he is mine—mine for ever!" She uttered a loud scream, and fainted. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you.
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