Well! Here, Valentine began after Arnica was seated: The Pope ... No! Do not tell me! Do not tell me! Ms. Fleurissoire immediately made, extending his hand in front of her and then uttering a low cry, she fell back, eyes closed. My poor friend! my poor dear, 'said the Countess ... Arnica finally opened one eye and murmured sadly: Is he dead? Valentine then, leaning toward her, slipped into the ear: Imprisoned.

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